


Catastrophe

by MadDoctorArtist



Series: War of the Old Ones Saga [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/F, Light Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 128,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDoctorArtist/pseuds/MadDoctorArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of the War of the Old Ones Saga. After the rebellion at Kirkwall, Yara and Bethany are on the run from the Divine’s Left Hand, searching for answers to Yara’s past. However, when a platoon of Wardens suddenly vanishes without warning, Yara and Bethany are forced to reveal themselves and investigate. The old gods stir, sensing opportunity, and Yara is given a chance to finally restore her memories. But the price of truth will transform her burden into something much more horrific. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! This is the second in the ‘War of the Old Ones’ Series—I recommend reading ‘Chances’ before this, else it might not make a lot of sense.
> 
> Elements from Final Fantasy 13: Lightning Returns make way here (yeah sorry for totally misleading you with the first fic, oops, but I had to get the backstory down!). Again, I am twisting the Dragon Age lore to make it fit, so don’t expect accuracy. Also I don’t really get into detail about the in-depth lore, so if I gloss over it, it’s on purpose.
> 
> Four years have passed since the ending of ‘Chances’. Which, if you’ve been adding up the years, means that we are now about to reach the start of Dragon Age: Inquisition…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This is the second in the ‘War of the Old Ones’ Series—I recommend reading ‘Chances’ before this, else it might not make a lot of sense.
> 
> Elements from Final Fantasy 13: Lightning Returns make way here (yeah sorry for totally misleading you with the first fic, oops, but I had to get the backstory down!). Again, I am twisting the Dragon Age lore to make it fit, so don’t expect accuracy. Also I don’t really get into detail about the in-depth lore, so if I gloss over it, it’s on purpose.
> 
> Four years have passed since the ending of ‘Chances’. Which, if you’ve been adding up the years, means that we are now about to reach the start of Dragon Age: Inquisition…

 

It was a freezing night, and Yara shivered. She sat by the window of their tiny house, watching the rime sparkle in the moonlight. It was certainly pretty, but it also meant she could barely see through the frosted panes. That set her nerves on edge, and she drew her arms around herself. She’d felt suspicious eyes on them all day, and she worried their current residence would soon no longer be safe.

She sighed, her breath forming smoky wisps, and glanced back to their room. Bethany was asleep on the bed, curled under the furs and blankets. Though she was peaceful now, Yara still noted the tension across her brow. Remains of the darkspawn nightmares, taunting her of the life they’d left behind. It might not have been a perfect existence, but it was a damn sight better than how they were now.

Yara turned back to the window, wiping away the frost. The cold numbed her fingers, mirroring the emptiness she felt within. Bethany had chosen to come with her, her loyalty never wavering, but that didn’t stop Yara’s guilt. Over the last four years, the two of them had been through so much, and they were so very, very tired. They could never stay in the same place for long, and each day was a constant struggle. Always they had to be vigilant, ready to depart at a moments’ notice. Never knowing if they would have a roof over their heads, or enough food and coin to last until it was safe again.

But it was more than simple comforts Yara missed. The playful banter with the other Grey Wardens, the camaraderie of shared missions, the sense of having a duty, a purpose; all of it she had thrown away, to chase the shadows of her forgotten past. Her only lead had been the raven-haired apostate, and still she was no closer to finding her. Many, many times she’d wanted to give in, to return to Amaranthine and end this fruitless search. To see Nathaniel and Alistair again, to forget that night in Kirkwall had ever happened.

But nothing could shake the words she’d heard in the burning city, nor the reality of those who pursued her. She stood accused of murdering Ferelden’s Hero, and she had no way of defending herself from the charge. And, as Hawke had warned, the Divine’s Left Hand had been ruthless. She’d spared no quarter in the hope of capturing Yara, desperate to avenge the Hero. No matter where Yara and Bethany hid—Ferelden, Orlais, even the borders of Nevarra—she _always_ found them. It might’ve taken a few weeks, or even months, but so far her record had been immaculate.

For all her successes, however, Yara took pride in being able to slip through the Left Hand’s fingers. That had less to do with the Left Hand’s skill, however, and more because a rogue Warden wasn’t her only concern. After the destruction of Kirkwall, it had not taken long for the spark to ignite southern Thedas. The Circles had revolted, sick of their tightening leash, and the Templars had turned on their masters, too. Now both sides clashed in war, bloody and unforgiving, while the world trembled, begging for the Chantry to restore peace. A task that would’ve completely pre-occupied the Left Hand, were it not for her obsession with Yara.

A twitch of movement caught Yara’s eye. She pressed her nose to the glass, holding her breath. The village was quiet, and then she spotted the stray cat. It pranced through the snow, black fur shining, before tucking itself beneath the house opposite.

The tension dropped, and Yara closed her eyes. They’d not been in this village for long, but it had proven peaceful. It sat a few miles from Jader, and consisted of sheep and cotton farmers. Bethany had offered her services as a healer, and they had welcomed her in time for the bitter winter. Of course, Yara had had to earn her keep as well, though she’d not taken much to mending shirts and tunics. She rubbed the nicks on her fingers, secretly wishing the people had more need of a warrior than a tailor.

Still, even with the villagers’ blessings, every movement had to be planned, calculated. Their supplies came from Jader, and that required disguises. Bethany did most of the face-to-face work, able to slightly alter her appearance with magic, but Yara wasn’t content to just skulk in the shadows. Despite their fugitive lifestyle, she’d still managed to peruse a few libraries and rare collections, gathering knowledge about the Hero of Ferelden’s death, and if there was any other way to restore her memories.

Yet on both fronts, she’d made little progress. Every account was the same; Elissa Cousland had perished facing the Archdemon, and even Alistair’s witness account of the circumstances said no different. A memorial had been erected for her in Redcliffe, but it was unclear whether the Hero had a true grave site. Portraits of her were also widespread, showing off the hazel eyes and dark brown hair that had become renowned. So unlike Yara’s own green eyes and midnight black locks.

As for recovering her memories, the techniques were so complex and dangerous, it was _still_ easier to look for the apostate. But how much further they could continue, Yara wasn’t sure. And if there was one thing that scared her…

A boom like a peal of thunder roared outside. Yara jumped, snapping her head towards the noise. For a moment there was only silent darkness, when flickering lights appeared. Another bang, and the light grew brighter, melting the frost. Yara’s eyes narrowed. The orange glow wasn’t torchlight.

She rushed to Bethany and shook her. Bethany grumbled, rolling aside. The mage had been on watch the previous night, and the lack of sleep had taken its toll.

“Beth, get up,” Yara said, tossing the furs aside.

Bethany fended Yara off, snatching back the furs. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and she grimaced.

“Ugh, what now?”

“The village is under attack,” Yara said simply. “We have to leave.”

Bethany’s eyes widened. She threw the furs to the bed, and shoved on her boots. As usual, she was already fully dressed, ready for a quick escape. Yara grabbed her pack and weapons, and within minutes they were out in the icy air. A routine they’d become far too used to.

Now they were outside, Yara caught yells from the north. She made to walk the opposite way, but Bethany didn’t follow. Her gaze was fixed on the fires and the glisten of raw mana.

“We’re not leaving.” She drew her staff, and let her pack fall to the snow. “Not when the villagers can’t defend themselves, when they took us in for nothing. I can handle a bunch of idiotic rebels.”

“Beth…” Yara couldn’t finish her sentence; Bethany was already storming towards the commotion. She waved her hand, and the spreading flames died instantly. Her magic had become unbelievably powerful, and even Yara was a little afraid of what she was capable of. Nonetheless, Yara followed in the mage’s footprints. She knew better than to try and dissuade her. Besides, so long as the Left Hand’s scouts kept away, it was only fair they protected the villagers who’d been so kind to them.

They approached the end of the village. One of the barns had burned down, and a farmer and his family were being attacked. There were four rebel mages, their arms and faces smeared with blood markings. They were trying to reach the child, while her parents fought to protect her. Yara’s eyes filled with venom. She drew her sword.

“You there,” Bethany called out, “stop this at once!”

One of the mages looked up, as did the farmer. It gave the mage the chance he needed. He snatched the girl, then held a knife at her throat. The girl screamed, white with terror.

“Stay out of this!” he spat.

“Wait, she’s one of us!” his companion said.

“Don’t you dare bring me down to your level,” Bethany hissed. “Release the girl, now!”

“Or what?” the first mage sneered.

“Careful, Jared, she might _heal_ us into submission!” mocked his companion.

“Take your best shot, hot stuff!” another challenged. “I’ll even keep still for you!”

A dangerous smile crossed Bethany’s lips. Jared’s grin faltered, and his jaw hung slack as she raised her staff. The air became thick and heavy, and the mages stumbled, the ground rumbling. Yara didn’t wait. She bolted forward and punched the mage holding the girl. He cried out, and Yara scooped the child into her arms. Once she was clear, Bethany thrust her staff downward, and the mages slammed into the frozen earth.

Bethany swept her staff in an arc, and the mages went flying. They hit the ground again, and a sickening crunch revealed one had broken his leg. Her eyes narrowed, Bethany made a slow walk forward. She let her staff catch light, the flames licking across the wood. The mages screamed, struggling to free themselves, but still they were pinned to the floor.

“N-No, please, enough!” Jared begged.

“Aw, but I’m just getting started,” Bethany said, resting a hand on her hip. “What was that you called me? Hot stuff?” The flames on her staff became more intense. Jared bawled.

“We give up!” he shrieked. “We’ll leave, we won’t come back. We swear it!”

“Is that a promise?” Bethany asked casually.

“Y-Yes!” Jared howled. “Now let us go!”

Bethany sighed. She clenched her fist, and the force spell dissipated. The trembling mages scrambled, helping their injured comrade limp down the main path. Bethany didn’t break her gaze, watching until they had disappeared.

Yara walked over to the shaken farmer and his wife. The little girl clung to her, her tiny arms trembling. Her mother took her gratefully, as the child sobbed.

“Maker bless you both!” she breathed. “Hush Layla, you’re safe now.”

“I had no idea you were so much more than just a healer,” the farmer admitted. He removed his cloak, and draped it around his daughter. “But thank you all the same.”

“What did they want?” Yara asked.

“They wanted Layla for some reason,” the farmer’s wife said, cradling her daughter to her chest. “They snuck in and stole her from her bed. If Eric hadn’t heard them…”

“One of them was muttering about some ritual,” the farmer Eric added. “Can’t imagine what nightmare they had planned.”

Bethany gasped.

“That means they’re only going to try again.” Her eyes narrowed. “If not here, then some other village.”

Yara sighed. “So we’re going to track them down and stop them, right?”

Bethany turned to her, her jaw tight. “You saw what they just did!” Her gaze fell slightly. “I…I know we’re not supposed to draw attention, but…”

“Beth, it’s okay.” Yara held her shoulder. “Probably time we moved on, anyway.”

“You’re going to leave us?” Eric asked. “Maker, please reconsider! If the mage-Templar war has come to our doorstep, we’re not trained to face such a threat!”

“I’m sorry,” Yara said. “But we’ll try and make sure this won’t happen again.”

Eric sighed. “I guess we’ll have to take that.” He took Yara’s hand. “Thank you, for saving my daughter. Should you ever need a place to stay again, please keep us in your thoughts. Maker guide your steps.”

Yara nodded. She bowed, before heading back to their quarters. Bethany trudged behind, her head downcast.

“Sorry,” the mage mumbled. “I didn’t realise. I wasn’t thinking of…”

“I don’t think we’d be staying much longer, anyway,” Yara interrupted. “That last merchant caravan kept his eye on us a bit too closely.”

Bethany sighed, wondering if Yara was only trying to make her feel better.

“I just hate how the rebel mages act like they can do whatever they want,” she said. “I never agreed with the principle of the Circle, but this is making me reconsider.” She shook her head. “We’re not all power-hungry and dangerous.”

“I know,” Yara answered. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach those fools a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

* * *

 

The rebels’ trail proved easy to follow, and soon Yara and Bethany were crouched behind a rocky outcrop. The mages had taken shelter in front of a cave, but at present their camp was empty. The fire had gone out, their tents and packs untouched. A dim glow emanated from the cavern entrance, and Yara’s stomach tightened. Something wasn’t right.

“They must be hiding inside,” Bethany said.

“Looks like,” Yara answered. “I’ll check it out.”

She left their hiding place, examining the camp. There was something strange about the dead embers, and Yara scowled. That scent of rot and ash, coupled with something she hoped was burnt meat…

Before she’d let the thought go further, she stepped to the mouth of the cave. Torches were plastered to the walls, illuminating the passage. Again the smell made her wretch, and she swallowed back the foul taste in her throat. Holding her breath, she took a step inside. Faint voices came ahead, and she beckoned to Bethany.

Together they made their way into the depths, the odour worsening. Yara felt saliva pool in her mouth, and she gulped. Surely it wasn’t just the smell making her so nauseous. Even Bethany’s face crumpled, and she held her hand to her lips.

“Maker, this isn’t what I think it is?” Her brow creased. “Come on!”

They took longer strides, the cavern walls narrowing. Yara swallowed, uncomfortable with the tight space. Then the voices became clear. As they turned the corner, Yara caught her breath. The mages were gathered in a large chamber. They knelt before a tall woman dressed in dirty Circle robes. An elegant dagger sat at her hip.

“Worthless fools, all of you!” she snapped. The mages cowered. “You can’t even steal a child away in the dead of night?”

“We were attacked by their healer!” Jared protested. “She knew force magic, and…”

“I do not want to hear your insipid excuses!” The woman drew her dagger. “The ritual can only be completed at a full moon, and I cannot wait another cycle! The Templars must pay!” She grabbed the collar of the injured mage. “A child would’ve been better, but since this is all I have been offered, so be it!”

She sliced the mage’s throat, silencing the cry that escaped his lips. The other mages yelped, trying to flee. The woman laughed, letting her victim’s blood soak into her hands. Her body took on a crimson aura, as did her eyes. She discarded his broken body, turning her attention to her remaining lackeys. Drawing on her newfound power, blackened tendrils sprouted from her palm. They snared the mages, who shrieked and kicked, desperate to break free.

“Now you shall see what true power is!” the woman cackled. She flexed her fingers. Jared screamed, the tendrils piercing his skin. Blood poured from his wounds, feeding into the woman and making her moan.

“Maker, we have to stop this!” Bethany looked to Yara. “Can you keep her attention for me?”

“Of course,” Yara said.

“Don’t get too close to her,” Bethany warned. “Any blood is fair game to her now. Be careful.”

Yara nodded. She drew her blades, comforted by their weight, then rushed into the open.

“What?” The woman turned, her eyes glazed. “Oh, an intruder?” She licked her lips, chuckling. “What excellent timing. You will be the perfect subject to test my strength!”

She flung out her arm, and a lance of energy shot out. Yara rolled aside, showered with broken stones as it hit the wall.  She recovered quickly, circling the blood mage. More bolts flew, and Yara dodged. The woman growled, hurling a boulder. Yara smashed through it with her sword. Dust flew everywhere, and she coughed. Still, it also affected the blood mage’s vision, and for a moment she ceased her spells.

“Wretched vermin!” Her tendrils dug deeper into the dead mages, drawing more blood. As the haze cleared, Yara grimaced. The woman’s face had become deformed, the muscles withering and skin stretched taut over bone. She lashed out, rending the ground apart. Yara jumped, but the quake worsened. The ceiling groaned, unable to take the strain.

“Yara!”

Bethany ran into the chamber, as rocks began to crumble like rain. Yara’s eyes widened, but she fought the urge to drag her back. The mage knew what she was doing…or so she hoped.

Bethany shot a fireball. It caught the woman in the chest, and at once the earthquake ceased. The woman gasped, whirling to face the new threat. Bethany twirled her staff and thumped it into the ground. A surge of mana escaped, and the woman howled, her tendrils destroyed. Yet even without her power source, she cast lightning from her hands. Bethany yelped, narrowly missing the charge.

Yara bolted, instinct guiding her across the broken floor. The woman cackled, her entire focus on Bethany. Urging her strength into her arms, Yara leapt. She drove her sword through the blood mage’s back. The woman screeched. She grasped at the blade that impaled her stomach, only for Bethany to set it alight. Yara retreated, as the woman flailed, consumed from within.

Finally she collapsed, and the ghastly red aura left her. Motionless, her skin turned to dust, and Yara’s sword clattered to the ground. All that remained was a pile of bones. Yara shuddered. She hurried to Bethany, who was nursing a burn on her arm.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a scratch,” Bethany assured, healing herself. She glanced to the mages’ bodies, and bit her lip. “Those idiots! They should’ve known better than to trust a blood mage.” She stood up, when abruptly something caught her eye. Frowning, she walked to the end of the cavern. The quake had dislodged the loose stone, revealing another chamber. Bethany brushed the rubble aside, then gasped.

“What is it?” Yara jogged to her side, also peering into the room. It appeared to be a makeshift study. Parchments and books lay scattered across several crates, but what really stood out was the oddly-shaped crystal that pulsed with blueish light.

“Maker’s breath, she was a Fade-Seer,” Bethany breathed. She stepped inside, approaching the crystal. “And she’s been doing this blood ritual for months!”

Yara’s stomach churned. So, that rotting smell had not been the flesh of animal. And the fact that the woman had wanted a _child_ for this…

“The amount of power stored in this…” Bethany reached for the crystal, but then hesitated.

“What?” Yara raised a brow, half-knowing what the mage was thinking.

“We could use it,” Bethany said.

“For what?”

“To find that apostate,” Bethany went on. “Fade-Seers are able to conjure visions of the past, present or future. Most only see very briefly, but with enough power, the vision can last longer.” She sighed. “I bet that woman wanted a scrying tool to predict Templar movements.”

“But to use _that_ …knowing where its power came from…” Yara shivered. No matter how badly she wanted to find the apostate, to use something wrought from so much death…

“Yara, we are getting _no-where_.” Bethany’s voice was worn. “I’m tired of running, tired of hitting dead ends and going round in circles. Your dreams aren’t getting any better, and we aren’t any closer to finding a solution than we were four years ago.” She shook her head. “We can’t let this go to waste. Not when we’re the ones who always have to make sacrifices!”

“Beth…” Yara was speechless. The woman who was more than a sister to her had been slowly falling apart, and she hadn’t even noticed. Her heart wrenched. The mage had become this way because of _her_.

“Let me do this for you,” Bethany begged, “please!”

For a long moment Yara stood there, lost. Part of her wanted to go through with it, to not let the victims’ suffering have been in vain, but she also knew the cost. Blood magic was a slippery slope, and the last thing she wanted was for Bethany to be tempted by such power.

She would bear this burden alone.

“Sorry Beth,” Yara said at last. “I can’t let you.”

Before Bethany could protest, Yara touched the crystal. It was warm, and left her fingers buzzing. Bethany’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but the words dried on her lips. The blue light turned crimson, and the air shimmered. Several silhouetted figures appeared, surrounding Yara. A dull ache pulsed in her temples, and she hissed. The shadows looked at her, then began to change shape. Their bodies twisted and morphed, then became more defined. At last they were given voice, and Yara was thrown into a different world.

_“Empress, your Advisor of the Arcane has arrived, as you requested,” a tall man announced, wearing a mask that covered most of his face._

_“Excellent, send her through immediately,” the Empress said, similarly masked._

_“As you wish.” The man gave a low bow, before he opened the doors to her chamber. Standing there patiently was a woman with amber eyes and raven hair. She did not move until she was called forth. Her steps were measured, calm, and she crouched on one knee._

_“You summoned me, Your Excellency?” Her voice was suave, but held an edge that revealed she was not as submissive as she appeared._

_“Thank you for answering so swiftly,” the Empress said. “I have a task for you.”_

_“What do you require of me?”_

_“An unusual item has recently been shipped to Val Royeaux,” the Empress went on. “Rumours state it is a Dalish relic, and it might have a connection to the fabled Eluvians. I simply want confirmation if this is so. Should that be the case, it must be brought into our possession.”_

_“Very well. I shall do as you bid.”_

The vision blurred, and Yara was thrown back into the cave. The crystal turned searing hot, and she gasped, snatching back her hand. Still, pain was nothing as she processed what she had seen. She couldn’t believe it. After every cold trail and blind turning, and she’d been hiding under the wings of Orlesian Empress all along…

“Yara!” Bethany grabbed her hand, studying the burn. “What in the Maker’s name did you do that for? That could’ve killed you, or worse!”

“It still worked,” Yara argued. She winced as Bethany conjured some ice and pressed it to her wound. “And now I know where to find her.”

Bethany blinked. “You…You saw the apostate?!”

“Yes,” Yara stated. “She’s acting as advisor to the Orlesian Empress, and…” She cut herself short. “Why are you so surprised?”

“You’re not a mage,” Bethany said. “You shouldn’t have been able to see anything!” She felt Yara’s forehead with the back of her hand. “Do you still feel okay?”

“Beth, I’m fine,” Yara insisted. “Maybe it did something to the spell on my memories.” She grasped Bethany’s hand. “But it doesn’t matter. We got what we needed.”

“But…”

“Beth, I swear to Andraste that I’m okay,” Yara insisted. “Besides, there’s no way I’d ever let you touch blood magic.” She managed a chuckle. “Maker knows your sister would kill me.”

Her words broke the tension, and Bethany snorted back a laugh.

“She would,” the mage admitted. “But don’t ever do that again, alright? I worry about you enough.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” Yara answered.

“You’d better,” Bethany warned. “Right, let’s get out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

_She sits apart from the rest of us, as usual. As the others jest and laugh, she remains focused, almost unaware of her surroundings. Her amber eyes cannot tear away from the tome she reads, devouring every word. From the moment I handed it over, it has consumed her._

_I leave the campfire and walk to her side. The others look at me strangely, but soon continue without me. She is still one of us, and should be treated as such. She, on the other hand, barely acknowledges my presence. Perhaps she feels if she ignores me, I will leave her alone. A strategy I myself have employed often enough._

_“Not hungry?” I ask, sitting beside her._

_“Not particularly, no.” She finally looks up. “T’is no need to worry after me, Warden.”_

_“I know you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself,” I reply. “But a cup can only be filled so much before everything spills from it.”_

_Her gaze softens, and she places the book beside her. “T’would seem even I cannot argue with such wisdom. Perhaps I have studied too long. Still, this grimoire has been…very revealing.” She stretches out, like a cat that has spent the evening sharpening its claws. “Do you care to hear a story, Warden?”_

_I blink, caught off guard._

_“If you are willing to share?”_

_She smiles, and takes a breath._

_“On a night much like this, many moons ago, I found myself burdened with curiosity. For the first time, I crept away from the safety of my mother’s hut, and chanced upon a traveller’s caravan. There I laid eyes on a beautiful hand mirror, and my desire consumed me.” Her gaze turns wistful. “I stole it and brought it home, thinking it the most magnificent treasure in all the world.”_

_I raise a brow, wondering where this is leading._

_“Flemeth, of course, was furious,” she continues, “and so she took the mirror and broke it before my very eyes.” Something in her face changes, but it does not last. “I was upset, yet now I realise the importance of the lesson I learnt that day.” She brings the book back to her lap. “Feelings are fickle things, Warden. They can be twisted to sever family ties and bring the fall of empires, despite being inherently weak.” She takes a breath, almost as if trying to convince herself. “What matters is survival, and whatever means are necessary to sustain it. Would you agree?”_

_I pause, considering my response._

_“Perhaps,” I murmur. “Survival is important. It drives us, makes us realise our potential in an unforgiving world.” The image of my burning home flashes past, and I sigh. “However, I believe it shouldn’t rule us.” My eyes drift to the red-haired bard, who laughs, oblivious. “Obsession can foul any ideal, especially if it is one’s only source of value.”_

_She looks at me, not affronted, but thoughtful. I have provoked debate._

_“You make an interesting point.” She takes up her book again. “Forgive me. I was going to ask a favour, but now you have made me reconsider. I will have to think over my options.” Opening the pages, she waves her hand dismissively. “Now do not fret over the appetite of an intrigued mage. I will eat when I am hungry.”_

_I nod, and stand up._

_“Very well, Morrigan.”_

* * *

 

It was snowing lightly by the time Yara and Bethany made port in the grand city of Val Royeaux. Yara watched the flakes dance through the air, grateful for her fur-lined overcoat and gloves. The dominating White Spire loomed on the horizon, although its light had dimmed considerably, and she could just see the façade of the Grand Cathedral, dusted in white.

Still, it was not the sight that left butterflies in her stomach. Beyond those white-stoned walls she would finally confront the raven-haired apostate, and restore what had been taken from her. Another dream had come and gone, but she hadn’t let it burden her. If all went as planned, it would hopefully be her last.

“Are you sure about this?” Bethany asked, drawing her scarf closer. “This is the seat of the Divine herself! Nothing goes by without her knowledge, and if we’re caught…”

“We won’t get caught,” Yara insisted. They’d argued the entire voyage, and although Bethany had reluctantly come around, she was still wary. It was going to be dangerous getting close to someone with direct ties with the Empress, and under the nose of the Left Hand, too. Any mistake would mean arrest, and the Left Hand would pull every string to gain their custody. Yet for Yara, the risk of capture was nothing compared to the promise of a cure. And after four years of lying low, she was confident they could elude the Left Hand, even upon her very doorstep.

Bethany paid the captain, and they disembarked. Yara sighed. There was no place for second thoughts; that had been the last of their funds. She looked around, blinking snowflakes from her eyelashes. The harbour was only half-full of ships, yet still filled with people. Frosted crates, boxes and barrels lined their way, and Yara’s boots crunched across the snow. They made straight for the Sun Gate, its statues covered in icicles. If not for their need to be cautious, it might’ve been enchanting.

Despite the cold, the main square remained packed. The winter market was in full swing, and people excitedly browsed the items on offer. The scent of roasted chestnuts made Yara’s mouth water, but she pushed aside her hunger pangs, pressing close to Bethany. She looked around, chewing her lip. Her vision had shown the Empress expressing interest in a special relic, which left two possibilities. Either it would be headed to the University, or it was going to be put up for sale.

As Yara debated which way to turn, a group of chevaliers suddenly marched through. The crowd fell back, clearing a path and allowing a carriage to pass. Bethany pulled Yara aside, and they crouched in the shelter of an empty stall. The chevaliers continued, before they and the carriage stopped at the edge of the square. A guard opened the carriage door, and Yara’s mouth went dry.

“Lady Morrigan, this way,” the guard said, bowing. “My lord is pleased you could attend the auction at such short notice.”

“We shall see if his endeavours are worth the time of my Empress,” Morrigan answered curtly. She let herself be escorted inside, dusting snow off her cloak. The doors to the auction house closed, and the chevaliers took up posts outside.

“Yara?” Bethany poked her shoulder. “Was that her?”

Yara blinked.

“Yes,” she said, finding her voice. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy.”

Bethany’s lip curled.

“Hmph, some apostate she is,” she muttered. “A private horse-drawn carriage with chevalier escort? I bet she can’t even conjure a head-cold.”

“I promise I’ll find a nice noble family for you to marry into as well,” Yara teased. Anything to distract her from her racing heartbeat. She turned to the auction house. “We have to get inside.”

They left the stall, keeping a distance so they didn’t appear too interested. The building was brightly painted, and supported by elegant white pillars. Its eastern side faced the port, while the north side overlooked a garden. A balcony ran around the whole house, glazed with ice, and a large bay window sat at the rear, unguarded.

“That’s our way in,” Yara murmured.

“And then what?” Bethany asked. “We ask her for a friendly discussion over tea?”

Yara rolled her eyes.

“Maker, you’re sounding just like your sister,” she said. “We need to find out about this artefact, then use it as leverage to convince Lady Morrigan to listen to us.”

“And you say _I_ sound like Amber,” Bethany scoffed. “Then again, even her plans were never this far-fetched.” She paused, studying the balcony, then the pillars that supported it. More crates stood beside the rear entrance, and she snapped her fingers. “Actually, maybe there’s a better way…”

* * *

 

The auction hall was full. Nobles and wealthy merchants mumbled amongst each other, taking their seats before the bidding began. Yara had tucked herself near a side-door, wishing she could retreat under her hood and become invisible. Bethany had ‘glamoured’ her with magic, so she appeared as a young noblewoman, Orlesian facemask and all. The mage herself was sneaking around, trying to find the relic. Still, Yara didn’t feel the part, and her heart pounded. Any keen observer would see through her disguise, and she swallowed, her eyes wandering to the chevaliers at the doors.

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome!” A stout merchant had taken to the podium. He wore expensive robes and white gloves. “And might I extend an especially warm welcome to our honoured guest, Lady Morrigan, who attends on behalf of our Majesty Empress Celene.”

The gathering broke into applause. Morrigan acknowledged them with a firm nod.

“So, let me introduce the first item.” The man gestured to the stage, where an elven servant brought forth a silver urn. “We shall start the bidding at fifty silvers.”

The first item was quickly sold, as was the pocket watch, necklace, and jewellery box that followed. Yara glanced to Morrigan. She was indifferent, examining her fingers. Waiting for the main attraction, no doubt.

A light touch brushed Yara’s arm, and she fought the urge to jump.

“Don’t turn around.” Bethany’s voice. She was behind the side-door, and had opened it a crack to speak to Yara. “The relic’s a dagger, and it’s fake.”

Yara swore. So much for her plan of leverage.

“This can still work,” Bethany went on. “If Lady Morrigan makes an offer on it, outbid her.”

“Pity I left those ten thousand sovereigns in my other dress,” Yara muttered.

“That won’t matter,” Bethany answered. “There’s something else going on here. Just trust me.”

Yara sighed. She felt Bethany slip away, and cast her attention back to the auctioneer. When the last bid was settled, he clapped his hands.

“Now, I know many of you have been waiting for this,” he announced, glancing to Morrigan. It hadn’t gone unnoticed she had yet to make a bid. “So, please behold Gaston’s most prized item of today’s auction!”

The elf servant came forward, carrying a velvet cushion. Upon it sat an ornate knife with a jewelled hilt. The blade was made from a fine glass-like material, and it glowed the colour of lyrium.

“This is a rare item retrieved from the Dales,” the auctioneer went on. “An authentic Arulin’Holm!”

The word meant nothing to Yara, but Morrigan’s eyes sparked with interest.

“To those unfamiliar, this is a unique Dalish crafting tool that can bring flare to any design, even imbuing it with magic!” He raised his gavel. “I start the bidding…at five hundred sovereigns!”

The crowd gasped. Many folded their arms, out of pocket already.

“T’would seem we need some encouragement,” Morrigan said—the first words she’d spoken since arriving. “Allow me to make the first bid, then.”

Silence followed. Nobody would dare outbid her. Swallowing, Yara licked her parched lips, and took a breath.

“I bid six hundred.”

All eyes snapped to her. Yara held herself rigid, afraid her heart would vault out of her chest. Was Bethany mad? This was the most sure way to keep everyone’s attention; more eyewitness accounts than the Left Hand would know what to do with.

Morrigan, however, was more surprised than annoyed. She turned back to the auctioneer, not deterred.

“Seven hundred sovereigns,” she said.

“Eight hundred,” Yara countered.

The auctioneer scowled. His expression told Yara he wanted her to stop. Yara clenched her fist.

“I bid nine hundred sovereigns,” Morrigan continued.

“One thousand!” Yara said, her voice loud and clear.

Gasps rang around the room. That was enough for Morrigan, who seemed to have caught on. She held a hand to her chin, an amused smile on her lips.

“Does…Does our Lady wish to bid further?” the auctioneer asked.

Morrigan shook her head. The blood drained from the auctioneer’s face.

“A-Any further bids?” The crowd remained silent. With a shaking hand the auctioneer raised his gavel. “Going once…twice…” Defeated, he let the hammer fall. “Sold, to the young lady in the blue dress.”

Yara caught her breath, not realising she’d been holding it. Sweat pooled in her palms, and she flexed her fingers that had suddenly turned numb. Maker, what had she done?

With the auction over, the gathering stood. The chevaliers opened the doors, and the nobles began to file out into the square. Morrigan remained seated, her gaze intent on Yara. Her eyes were pure amber, and a memory darted through Yara’s mind. She blinked, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t afford to blackout here.

The auctioneer came to her, and offered his arm. His smile was forced.

“Would my lady kindly come with me to claim her item?” Yara did not miss the edge to his voice. She’d messed something up, big time. “And of course to arrange payment.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Yara said, glancing around. Where in the Maker’s name had Bethany gone?

“If t’would not displease you, I would like to accompany her ladyship.” Morrigan had stood up and walked over. Her expression was unreadable. “While I concede I lost to the better woman, I would be interested to take a closer look at the Arulin’Holm.”

The auctioneer’s eyes lit up.

“Why of course,” he said, tightening his grip around Yara’s arm. Yara frowned. It was going to leave bruises. “My lady would not protest, would she?”

“Of course not,” Yara said, wishing she could draw her dagger and show the man what for. Alas, she had to get Morrigan alone.

The auctioneer took them out the chamber, through a short hallway, then into the stock room. The items of the day were displayed on the shelves, and at the back was the ornate knife. It rested on its velvet cushion, gleaming in the candlelight.

“My lady, Lady Morrigan, please take your time,” the auctioneer said, backing towards the door. “I will return shortly.”

The moment he closed the door, Morrigan snapped her fingers. Yara’s glamour melted, and she blinked.

“You must be glad to end that charade,” Morrigan said, raising a brow. “But you are certainly no mage. Who are you, and who told you to bid against me?”

“I…” Yara cleared her throat. She would not be intimidated. “The relic’s a fake.”

“Oh, I knew that the moment I walked through the doors,” Morrigan said. “But if you knew that as well…”

Her eyes widened, and she stormed to the door. She wrangled the knob, but it was locked. Yara swore. So, it had been a trap all along.

“Stand back,” Morrigan warned. Yara did so, and Morrigan brought fire to her fingertips. She launched the blaze at the door, but it bounced off. A magical seal flared, and she frowned. “My, t’would seem they are better prepared than I expected.”

However, as she readied another spell, the seal suddenly vanished. Yara heard a groan from the other side of the door, and a heavy thump. The door opened, and Bethany appeared, two unconscious mages at her feet.

“They’ve locked us in, and more assassins are coming,” she reported.

Morrigan sighed. “I suppose I should have suspected as much. T’would not be the first time attempts have been made on my life.”

She turned to Yara again, more questions on her lips, but they were interrupted as an arrow hit the wall behind them. Yara drew her sword and dagger, hurrying into the hallway. The shadows moved, and as assassin leapt at her. She crossed her blades, deflecting the blow. The assassin twirled on the ball of his foot and thrust his knife at her. Yara twisted, the metal tearing her cloak, and slammed her knee into his belly. He groaned, and Yara drove the pommel of her sword into his face. He dropped to the floor, out cold.

More arrows came, and Yara dodged. She moved into the auction hall, an archer dancing on the rafters above. Morrigan was almost at the entrance, having mown her way through more assassins. Maker, she was going to get away!

The archer suddenly changed tact, taking aim at Morrigan. She had her back to him, too intent on the exit.

“Morrigan, look out!”

Yara sprinted, reaching her just as the arrow was loosed. It hit her in the shoulder, and she cried out. Morrigan turned, then blasted lightning to the ceiling. The rafter crumbled, and the archer fell, cracking his neck on one of the chairs. Bethany struck the last assassin down, and the world became still again. Yara dropped her sword, clutching her bleeding shoulder.

“Yara!” Bethany vaulted the chairs, kneeling by her side. Yara winced, as Bethany checked the wound. Slowly, she pulled out the arrowhead. Yara bit back her cry, trying to keep her arm still. The mage pressed her hand over the broken flesh, letting her healing spell flow into it. Morrigan watched, filled with curiosity.

“So, t’would appear I am in your debt,” she said. “Yara, was it? You have my thanks.” She made to walk away. Despite her pain, Yara pushed Bethany aside, grabbing the apostate’s cloak.

“Please, I need to talk to you,” she said.

Morrigan raised a brow. She let out a breath, before taking one of the empty seats.

“Let your friend tend to you, then I am all ears,” she said. “I would suggest you make it quick, however.”

Yara nodded. She took the chair opposite, letting Bethany finish. When the mage was done, she looked Morrigan in the eye.

“This will sound crazy, but please listen,” she began. “I…I was a Grey Warden, and after a terrible accident I lost all my memories. I thought it was because of my wounds that I couldn’t remember, but I’ve had the truth revealed.” Her jaw hardened. “Ten years ago, _you_ cast a spell that made me forget.”

“Did I, now?” Morrigan said. “And do you have any proof of this?”

“I only have a fragment of a memory,” Yara said. “You spoke to me, and said it was a kindness. You were expecting me to die. But I survived, and now I need you to undo it.”

Morrigan’s eyes widened. It was only for a second, though, and her mask soon slipped down again. For a moment she was silent. Eventually she bowed her head, and stood up.

“I am afraid I cannot help you.” She made to walk away again, but Yara stood, blocking her path.

“What? Why!” She clenched her fist. “I know you remember! I’m not asking for…”

Morrigan turned, and Yara fell silent. The apostate’s face was sombre.

“I am not denying it did not happen.” Morrigan’s voice was tinged with something that could have been sadness. “I can sense magic in your mind that should not be there. But even if t’is true, there is nothing more I can do for you. That fugue is a deep, ancient magic, and it has no counter-spell.”

Her words were like daggers through Yara’s chest. This couldn’t be…she wasn’t hearing this…

“You’re…you’re lying…” Yara’s voice shook. “You have to be!”

Morrigan sighed.

“Nothing can awaken what lies beneath the darkness of a fugue,” she said. “T’is a magic reserved for those who do not have long left in this world, as you have told me. It dulls not only the mind of the one under its thrall, but also those who knew them, to ease their pain as well.” Her brow creased. “Even if you found someone who remembers you, as I should, they would not recollect you, either.”

Yara froze. Her mind was screaming, and she felt numb. After all she’d sacrificed to get here, and now at the last hurdle only failure stared back.

“So what do I do?” Her voice was hoarse.

“That, I cannot answer,” Morrigan admitted. “One would assume t’is _some_ power out there that could help, but if there is one, I know not.” She hesitated. “I am sorry.”

She departed, leaving Yara and Bethany alone. The silence was deafening, and Yara began to tremble. Angry tears prickled, and she bit back a sob.

“Oh, Yara…” Bethany held her shoulder.

“I was so close.” Yara let the tears fall, and she kicked the chair. It smashed into the wall, breaking into splinters. “ _I was so close, and now the Maker takes this from me as well_!” She flung another chair aside, then punched the wall, cracking the plaster. She kicked it again, and again, torn between rage and grief. To make the world shatter as it had done for her.

“Yara.” Bethany grabbed her, pulling her into her arms. Yara fought her hold, but eventually she broke down. She fell to her knees, and bawled into the mage’s shoulder, not caring for her aching wound. The empty coldness in her chest was overwhelming. She’d given up _everything_. She’d abandoned the Wardens, she’d torn Bethany from her sister, she’d risked the wrath of the Left Hand…

And all for nothing.

Armoured steps rattled outside. Bethany swore.

“We have to get out of here.” She helped Yara to stand, wiping her eyes. Yara sniffed, barely able to keep herself together. She took a shaking breath, trying to stem the tidal wave of feelings. Still they jittered through her, but she let her instincts take over. They had to leave, quickly.

They retreated back to the rear hall, as the front door was broken down. The chevaliers shouted at them, but Bethany pulled Yara’s arm harder. Yara stumbled, the adrenaline wearing off and making her injured shoulder flare. Bethany’s magic had healed the cut, but the pain would take longer to wear away. There was no way they could fight their way out of this.

Bethany dragged her up the stairs, into the first room. The windows were locked. The mage kicked them, shattering the panes. She pulled Yara through the broken glass, and hurried to the balcony. Yara swallowed. The drop to the ground was longer than she’d thought, and it was rock-hard with frosted snow.

“It’s okay, I can cushion our fall,” Bethany said. “Just…”

The mage abruptly cried out. She fell to one knee, a silver bolt sticking out of her thigh. Horrified, Yara glanced to the broken window. Several chevaliers burst through, their crossbows poised at them. They were surrounded. Yara raised her hands, and cold steel pressed against her back.

“Do not move.” the lead chevalier said. “You are under arrest, by orders of the Left Hand of the Divine.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Yara, are you awake?”

A firm hand poked Yara’s shoulder. She blinked, hiding a yawn. She couldn’t recall falling asleep—she must’ve drifted off. For once a dream had not assaulted her, yet she felt anything but refreshed. Her neck was stiff and aching, and her wrists were heavy and sore. She made to rub her eyes, and was met with rattling chains. Puzzled, she looked to her hands. She’d been clasped in irons.

Sighing, Yara looked around, the realisation of what happened hitting all over again. After being dragged from the auction house, she and Bethany had been thrown into a dark, windowless cell. Their wrists and ankles were bound, and they’d been stripped of their belongings and weapons. The air was rank, the plank of wood that served as bedding filthy, and quiet chittering from the corner made Yara’s skin crawl.

Bethany let out a sigh of relief. Despite her chains, she shuffled closer. Mud and dried blood stained her face, but the spirit in her eyes had not diminished.

“Are you okay?” She touched Yara’s cheek. “Say something!”

Yara didn’t move. She closed her eyes, welling up with shame. How could she even look at Bethany, let alone speak? She’d asked so much from the poor mage, and it had all been for the sake of a lie.

“ _Yara, snap out of it_!”

A sharp crack connected with Yara’s face, and she yelped. Her cheek raw, she raised her fingers to where the mage had slapped her. Bethany’s eyes flared.

“I’m sorry.” Yara finally managed to find her voice. It sounded so weak. “For everything.”

Bethany grabbed Yara’s shoulders. The chains weren’t long enough, and the shackles cut into the mage’s wrists.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” she growled.

Yara turned away, grimacing.

“But I made you…”

Bethany dug her fingers into Yara’s arms. Yara hissed.

“I came with you out of _choice_ , Yara,” the mage said, stressing the word. “You didn’t make me do anything. I knew what we were risking, and what was at stake.” She let out a breath, her hold softening. “I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed, but there’s no point in dwelling on mistakes. You heard Morrigan. There must be a force out there that can free you. We just have to try again, once we get out of here.”

Yara bit her lip. Bethany’s faith was misplaced. She didn’t deserve this.

“You don’t have to be here.” She still refused to meet eyes with the mage. “The Left Hand only wants me. I can tell them you have nothing to do with…”

Bethany held her face, forcing Yara to look at her.

“Yara, we’ve been together so long you’re more of a sister to me than Amber,” she said softly. “That means I stick around, no matter what.” She squeezed Yara’s hand. “Even if you’ve given up, I haven’t.”

Yara had nothing to say to that, and simply sighed. Bethany frowned, about to continue, but the stomp of heavy armour broke the moment. Yara looked to the corridor, only to be faced by four chevaliers. Their cell was unlocked, and then they were hoisted to their feet. One soldier unclasped their ankle chains, but kept his sword at their backs.

“Out, now,” he barked.

“Let Bethany go,” Yara said, before the mage could stop her. “The Left Hand only wants me.”

Her answer was a smack to the jaw. She groaned, clipping her teeth on her tongue.

“You will not presume what Her Grace does and does not want,” the chevalier snarled. He revealed nothing further as the two were hauled through the dingy corridor. Bethany shot Yara a strange look, but kept quiet. Yara sighed. She was certainly going to get an earful later.

After ascending the narrow steps, they crossed a hall and entered the open air. Yara’s breath misted, and she shivered, missing her cloak and overcoat. The chevaliers ignored her, marching her to a carriage surrounded by more soldiers. They were all on horseback. Yara blinked. They were going to be transported somewhere? But the Left Hand resided in Val Royeaux…

The carriage door was opened, and the two forced inside. Two chevaliers also joined them, and fastened their chains to the seats.

“Where are you taking us?” Bethany couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer.

The chevalier scoffed.

“You’re going back to your country of dog-lords!” he spat. “Her Grace wishes to personally oversee your questioning, but she is on business with Most Holy. We are to bring you to her directly.”

Yara’s heart skipped a beat.

Her time had come.

* * *

 

It was a tiresome journey to the village of Haven. The snow fell thick and fast, slowing their progress, and the soldiers refused to give them extra clothing or blankets. Yara could not remember a time when she wasn’t shivering, and she pitifully tried to wrap her arms around herself. Of course the chains prevented that, themselves so icy they burned her skin. With just her shirt, moth-eaten scarf and leggings, she might as well have been naked.

Bethany did not fare much better. Her face still held lash marks from when she’d conjured a small fire to keep them warm. The mage bore them proudly, glad she had been able to ease Yara’s pain, however little. They’d endured almost ten days of this, and Yara was close to breaking point. Exhausted, anxious, freezing, starving, and she hadn’t even laid eyes on the Left Hand yet. Maker-knew what would be left of her once _she_ began her interrogation.

The carriage abruptly halted. The two guards looked at each other, bemused. The soldier sitting beside Yara rapped on the wall.

“Driver, what is the meaning of this? We did not signal a halt!”

He was met with silence. A sudden shiver ran down Yara’s spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. At the same time, Bethany snapped her head up. Neither had the time to voice their thoughts, as a huge tremor ripped across the ground. The carriage shuddered, then flipped over. Its momentum sent it rolling and rolling, until it slammed into a cliff. The door splintered, and Yara and Bethany cried out, their chains pulling. Warmth ran down Yara’s wrist; the iron had pierced skin.

The chevaliers groaned, quickly recovering. They kicked open the door and scrambled out. Moments later they managed to right the carriage. Yara howled, the twisted shackle almost tearing her arm off. Bethany shouted her name, a healing spell at her fingertips, when an aftershock tore through. It wasn’t as powerful as the first, but the carriage fell onto its side. It was enough to break Bethany’s chain, and she kicked away the bindings. She pulled Yara into her chest, wrapping her fingers around her bleeding wound. Yara’s eyes filled with tears.

“It’s alright. I’m here,” Bethany soothed. Yara shut her eyes, making herself blot out the pain. But she was so tired; it already took all her strength to remain sitting. She felt herself drifting, and the agony blazed through her body.

_I can feel her warmth as she carries me. I do not know how she manages. I am so much heavier, weighed down with cracked armour. Her breaths are frantic, her amber eyes fixed on the horizon. Her face is ashen, her raven hair tousled, and her steps tiring. I want to tell her to stop, to leave me and let fate take its course, but I cannot speak. I cannot move. I cannot do anything._

_“We are…almost there,” she tells me, panting. The same words she has repeated since she changed back into her human form. A wry smile crosses her lips. “I do not know…why I speak so…t’is not as if…you can hear me…”_

_She continues her breathless pace, and the land changes. Isolated road becomes dense forest, and at once she eases, much more at home. But my vision is fading. Blood leaks from so many wounds, and though pain has kept me awake, its sharp sting is dulling. My eyes close, giving in._

_“Healer!” Her voice is like shattering glass. “Healer Viren, I seek your aid and demand you come out at once!”_

_My sight fails me, and all I have left is my hearing. I sense rushing steps, one set heavier than the other._

_“By the Maker, what happened?!” A man’s voice; deep and kind, but right now filled with concern. His fingers pressed to my wrist, and something cold and metallic is strapped to my arm._

_“A fall,” my saviour states. “From a very great height.”_

_“How high?” The man continues to check me. His touch is learned, experienced._

_“High enough that I am amazed she still draws breath,” my saviour answered. “Please, I have heard you are the best in all Thedas. If there is anyone who could save her…”_

_Her voice catches; something I have never heard before._

_“I will do all I can,” the man says, “but I do not wish to give you false hope. Her chances are…”_

_“How slim?” asks my saviour._

_The man sighs. “She will not last the night.”_

_Silence dominates for a long moment._

_“Then…please allow me to say goodbye.”_

_Silence returns, and the darkness jerks. I am moving again. Soon I feel softness beneath me, taking the strain from her worn arms. My heart breaks. It will be the last thing I ever feel._

_Something shifts beside me. Moisture kisses my cheek, but I am not crying._

_“You do not deserve this ending,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “Not when you have promised me a new beginning.” Warmth touches my forehead, and magic thrums in her fingers. Terror engulfs me, but I can do nothing to stop her. “So let me grant you this. I do this out of kindness, to repay the trust you showed me.” The darkness beckons, and I am slipping away. “May your last hours be peaceful, and without burden. You need not take your pain with you into the Fade.” My hearing fades, but I grasp onto her final words. “I will miss you, Elissa.”_

“YARA!”

Bethany’s voice was shrill, and Yara took a breath, suddenly remembering how. Pain became real again, biting her left wrist, but she could move. She was out of the carriage, lying on the ground and relieved of her chains. The bodies of the chevaliers lay scattered around the road, torn apart by unseen claws. Bethany was on her knees, the ground covered in blood.

 _Her_ blood.

“I’m…sorry,” Bethany murmured. She spat the blood from her mouth, before staring down the creature that towered over her. Yara’s eyes widened.

A Pride demon.

And Bethany had been defending her, all alone.

“No!” Her voice boomed out, filling her with new resolve. The ache in her wrist turned dull, and she leapt to her feet. Fire ignited in her belly, banishing her chills and hunger. A chevalier’s sword came to her hand, and she yelled, charging at the demon. The Pride demon gloated, raising a muscled claw, but Yara ducked. She slid across the ice, under its legs, and then slammed the blade into its back. The Pride demon roared, swiping at her. It scored a tear of its own, and Yara cried out. Pain only served to fuel her rage, and she lashed out again. Savage blow followed savage blow, tearing chunks of the demon’s flesh out, but it would not fall.

Finally the Pride demon had had enough. It grabbed Yara, raising her off the ground. Yara couldn’t breathe, its crushing grip choking. Her sword fell, and her vision swam. The demon charged its other claw, ready to end it.

“Yara!”

A voice Yara had not heard in years cut through the darkness. The pressure vanished, and she hit the ground, gasping. Everything hurt, but she forced her eyes to open. A blur of blue and silver was hacking at the demon. The fight paused, and Yara swore she was dreaming.

“Nathaniel?!”

She struggled to her feet, reclaiming the chevalier’s sword. Nathaniel backed away from the demon, which sank to its knees. It would not last much longer. He nodded at Yara, and together they made a final charge. Both their blades cut through the creature’s neck, and it collapsed.

Nathaniel didn’t even wait for it to hit the ground. He spun around, running to Bethany. He lifted her into his lap, his jaw tight. She was no longer conscious, but she was still breathing.

“Maker’s breath, just what the hell is happening?!” he asked. Yara had never seen him so panicked. “Why are you two…”

Yara barely heard the rest of his words. Her gaze had turned skywards, and could not be broken. Torn between horror and wonder, she did not know what to make of the sight before her. A pillar of sickly green light ripped right through the heavens, sundering everything above the clouds and more. Thunder crackled at its peak, and sparks of lightning flashed, revealing dark shadows that danced in the empty air.

Demons.

Yara looked away, her throat filled with bile. Even so, the mountains, the ground, the cliffs, the snow; nothing escaped the taint of jade. Almost against her will, her eyes returned to the pillar, and she followed the light to its base. A deep scar had also been carved into the earth, filled with shattered stone and burnt ruins. The remains of Haven.

Bethany whimpered, and Yara turned to her. Nathaniel had lifted her into his arms, and was standing again. Her brow was creased, and her body shook.

“We have to get her to a healer, quickly.” He bit his lip. “But I don’t think there will be much left, not after…”

“After what?” Yara pointed to the tear in the sky. “You mean _that_?!”

“Yes!” Nathaniel snapped. “Something terrible happened at the Conclave. Out of no-where it just…exploded.”

“The Conclave?”

“We haven’t time. I’ll explain while we walk,” Nathaniel said.

Yara nodded. She picked a cloak from a dead chevalier, drawing it around herself, before stealing one for Bethany as well. She took a second sword for herself, along with any other surviving items. Adrenaline still sang through her, but she knew she would be a wreck once it wore off.

Once Yara had scavenged what she could, they staggered down the jagged path. Ever closer to the pillar of light. Yara couldn’t help but remember Kirkwall, and she shuddered.

“The Divine was planning to hold peace talks here between the mages and Templars,” Nathaniel said, carefully stepping over the loose stones. “In order to keep it neutral, she asked for representatives from all chapters of the Grey Wardens. Alistair sent me, Ranalle and Velanna, and there were more from the Free Marches and Orlais.” He fell silent for a moment. “They…were all inside there. The Divine, representatives from the Seekers, the Chantry, the mages, the Templars… _us_.” His eyes glistened. “And now they’re all gone.”

Yara held a hand to her mouth.

“Maker, it can’t be…” Her chest burned. Ranalle, the stern but kindly elf who’d helped save Bethany from the Blight sickness, and Velanna, the headstrong, if sometimes naïve Dalish mage…both friends she had known for years. Now they were dead, just like that.

Another thought struck her, and she couldn’t stop herself.

“What about the Divine’s Hands?”

“Cassandra Pentaghast, was clear of the blast zone, so she’s accounted for,” Nathaniel answered. “Sister Nightingale, though…” He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Yara’s mouth went dry. The name unearthed her memory of Kirkwall’s fall, and she shook her head. No, surely it couldn’t have been the same person.

But if she hadn’t survived…

“Whoever did this is going to pay,” Nathaniel went on, oblivious to Yara’s thoughts. “I’ll avenge every Grey Warden who perished. But we’ll see to Bethany first.” He walked faster. “Meanwhile, you can tell me your side.” He sighed. “Maker, I always hoped I’d see you two again. But not like this.”

“Me too,” Yara murmured.

“Me…three,” Bethany croaked; she’d awoken.

“Beth!” Nathaniel paused, and Yara rushed to his side, clasping the mage’s hand. Bethany winced.

“Hey…what are you…waiting for?” she whispered. “A healer…would be great…right now…”

Nathaniel managed a tight smile.

“Only the best for my Warden-sister,” he said. “We need to hurry.”


	4. Chapter 4

Yara hurried ahead of Nathaniel, her boots skidding on the icy path. Her borrowed swords weighed heavy on her shoulders, and they kept brushing the wound across her back. She bit back her wince, focusing on the pillar of light. They were descending into the heart of the valley, where Haven sheltered between the mountains. Thankfully no more demons appeared, but Yara kept a sword in hand, just in case. She would not be caught off guard again.

Nathaniel adjusted his hold on Bethany. She hissed, and his brow furrowed.

“So, care to tell me why you were being escorted to Haven under heavy guard?” he asked. “A lot must have happened since Kirkwall fell.”

Yara sighed. There was so much she wanted to share, but it would take too long to discuss. Until Bethany was safe, she would have to keep things brief.

“The Left Hand of the Divine,” she said simply. “She’s been after me since we escaped Kirkwall.”

“Maker’s breath, really?” Nathaniel shook his head. “What did you do to piss her off?”

Yara swallowed.

“I might have murdered the Hero of Ferelden.”

“‘ _Might’_ have?” Nathaniel repeated. Then the gears clicked, and his eyes filled with remorse. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t…” He stopped short, before he’d dig himself too deep. “Could that have something to do with your missing memories?”

“Who knows?” Yara answered, her shoulders sagging. “I spent all these years trying to find out, but it’s been for nothing.” She clenched her fingers around her blade. “An apostate tried to grant me a peaceful death after my accident, believing I’d die from my wounds. But it messed with my memories, and she can’t undo it. Now I might never remember anything.”

“I see.” Nathaniel’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry.” He looked towards the pillar of light. “But without proof, not recalling doesn’t make you guilty.”

“It doesn’t make me innocent, either.”

“Maybe, but I don’t believe you capable of such cold-blooded killing, Yara. It’s not you.”

“Perhaps,” Yara murmured. “The Left Hand believes otherwise. She might even be right.”

Nathaniel sighed.

“Well, if she’s still out for you, we need to be careful,” he advised. “Even if Sister Nightingale didn’t survive, some of her underlings will. You’d hope the survivors would get their priorities straight, but this _is_ the Chantry, after all.”

“Right.” Yara pulled up her scarf and tied her hair back. It was hardly a convincing disguise, but along with the dried blood and grit on her face, it would make her blend in well.

They left the trail and crossed a bridge. It led right to the village itself, and Yara gasped. It was chaos. Only a single building had withstood the fallout; the local Chantry. Everything else was in ruin. A makeshift infirmary had been set up between the rubble, and it was quickly filling up. There must’ve been hundreds of wounded stretched out across the snow, and the Chantry priests struggled to accommodate them.

Nathaniel took Bethany to an empty cot, then laid her down. The mage barely stirred, even with her injuries jarred. With an uneasy breath, Yara looked around for a healer. Only a single mage and several herbalists were present, all of them pre-occupied with other patients. Nathaniel frowned.

“We’re going to have to do this ourselves,” he said. “Find some lyrium, and I’ll make some poultices. If we can give Bethany some of her strength back, she can do the rest herself.”

Yara nodded. She gave Bethany’s hand a quick squeeze, then wandered around, seeking the quartermaster. Her own wounds prickled, but she ignored them. There would be plenty of time to sort those later. Priests and soldiers brushed past her, barely batting an eyelid. Yara sighed. For now, she could walk amongst them without fear.

She found the stores behind the Chantry’s west wing. It wasn’t much more than a tent and some tables. A queue had formed, and the quartermaster and her assistant were handing out crates of supplies. Yara waited, her eyes falling to the box of lyrium at the front. Finally it was her turn, and the quartermaster raised a brow.

“What’re you after?” she asked.

“I need some lyrium,” Yara stated.

“Hmph, I’m flattered you haven’t just stolen it, dressed like that,” the quartermaster scoffed. “Anyway, you’ve wasted a journey, love. If you haven’t got clearance from Seeker Pentaghast, I can’t let you have any.”

Yara’s heart sank. There was no way she could approach the Divine’s Right Hand; not when she would throw her at the Left Hand’s feet. She would have to ask Nathaniel. Maker, first she’d left Bethany to fight the demon alone, and now she couldn’t even do this. Could she feel anymore useless…

She made to return to the infirmary, when armoured steps rattled behind. Yara froze, half-expecting a sword at her spine.

“Threnn, I have requests from Adan.” A woman’s voice, thickly Nevarran. It was no sword, but it was no less as sharp. Yara didn’t move, catching a gauntleted hand passing over a parchment.

“Maker’s breath, what does he think I am?” Threnn scowled, reading the list. “Ha, embrium? Silvervine? He’ll be lucky!”

“If you need support to scavenge the items, I can provide it,” the Nevarran woman stated. “Whatever it takes, we must keep that woman alive. She is the only one who survived, and we need to be able to question her.”

Threnn muttered to herself.

“Sure, I’ll sort it for you, Seeker.” She glanced to Yara. “By the way, this one here wants some lyrium. You okay with that?”

The Nevarran stepped forward, and Yara was forced to meet her gaze. The woman was tall, muscular, and sported short-cropped hair and a scarred jaw. Yara clenched her fist. The Divine’s Right Hand, Cassandra Pentaghast. Nonetheless, even as she studied Yara carefully, there was no recognition in her eyes. Perhaps the Left Hand had kept her secrets too close.

“What would someone who wasn’t a mage want with such a thing, especially at a time like this?” Cassandra asked.

“My friend is hurt,” Yara said, fighting her quivering pulse. “She’s a mage healer, so she just needs to restore her mana to help herself.”

Cassandra’s brows narrowed. Yara wondered how many had fled in terror under such a gaze, and how long it would be before she joined them.

Eventually the Seeker rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered. “Very well, take what you need, but on one condition. Once she is recovered, she must tend to the other injured. It will be days before we receive aid, and we need as much help as we can get.”

Yara gritted her teeth. The last thing she wanted was to be tied to this place, especially if it turned out that the Left Hand had survived. Yet if she didn’t act, she risked Bethany’s life. It was a gamble she could not afford.

“I accept,” she said.

Cassandra nodded. She clasped Threnn’s shoulder.

“Give whatever she requires,” she ordered. “I will return later.”

She walked off, and Yara let out a breath. That had been too close.

“Well, aren’t you a lucky one,” Threnn muttered. She dragged out the box of lyrium, tossing a couple of bottles to Yara. “If you need more, come back.”

“Thanks.”

Yara strode away, prize in hand. Soon she was back with Nathaniel. He was sitting beside Bethany, and had dressed most of her wounds himself. The mage remained unconscious, shivering under her cloak. Her face was pale, and her breaths were troubled.

“Since when did you become such a healer?” Yara said, handing over the bottles.

“I had to learn without you and Bethany to watch my back,” Nathaniel said. “That healer girl in Amaranthine showed me a few things. With the right supplies, I can manage most injuries. But I’m no expert. I can’t get her to wake up.”

“Leave that to me.” Yara stepped to the end of the cot. She tucked her arm under the mage’s legs; a trick she’d learnt from Eliza. “She hasn’t broken anything, has she?”

“No,” Nathaniel confirmed.

Nodding, Yara lifted Bethany’s legs, so they were above her chest. After a minute or so, colour returned to the mage’s face. Then her eyes opened, and she gasped.

“Welcome back,” Yara greeted.

“Oh Maker…” Bethany groaned, holding her arm across her face. She cringed, the wound on her forearm catching. “Why’d you wake me?”

“Because it’s time to drink up,” Nathaniel said. As Yara lowered Bethany’s legs and helped her sit, he uncorked a bottle. Bethany didn’t protest as he set the glass to her lips. Her shirt was torn, revealing the bandages around her torso and arms. She drank the blue liquid slowly. Once she finished, she rested against Yara. For a moment Yara thought she would go back to sleep again, but then the mage raised her hand and pressed it to her bandaged side. Soft blue light escaped her fingers, and began to repair the deep claw marks.

Yara watched for a while, before she sighed.

“Um, there’s something I need to mention,” she said, suddenly hesitant.

“What?” Nathaniel asked.

“I, er, had to bargain for the lyrium.”

“So?” Bethany shrugged. “I’m sure one of those chevalier swords…”

“I had to bargain _you_ ,” Yara interrupted. She looked away. “I ran into the Right Hand, and she made me promise you’d help the survivors once you were better.”

“You did _what_?!” Bethany abandoned her spell and grabbed Yara. The sudden movement pulled at her side, and she winced. “Wait, didn’t she realise who you were?”

“I know, I wasn’t expecting that either,” Yara said. “But we can’t just walk out of here, like I was hoping. I’m sorry.”

“Hmph, do you really think she has the resources to chase us if we leave,” Bethany muttered. However, as she glanced at the wounded around her, crying out, she gritted her teeth. Even she could not turn her back to this. “Alright. When I’ve patched myself up, I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Yara said. “But don’t force yourself.”

“I don’t plan to,” Bethany said. “What about you, though? It’s only a matter of time before someone recognises you. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“I agree,” Nathaniel said. “It also seems I’m the only Grey Warden who survived. That’s bound to look suspicious.”

“I won’t leave Beth,” Yara stated. “It’s my fault she’s…”

“I wasn’t suggesting that at all,” Nathaniel cut her off. “In fact, the reason I wasn’t at the Conclave was because I was investigating something. And since we’re only going to attract unwanted attention, now might be a good time to get back to it.” He patted Bethany’s shoulder. “We’ll return for you once we’re done. Seeker Pentaghast can’t keep you here against your will.”

Bethany sighed.

“I guess it’s safer that I stay,” she admitted. “I’ll need a few days to get back to normal. Besides, I’m not in the mood to go up against another Pride demon.”

Her words were meant in jest, but Yara clenched her teeth. If she hadn’t been caught in a flashback…

“Yara, please.” Bethany touched her shoulder. “I know you’re blaming yourself, but it had nothing to do with you. Besides, my injuries aren’t as bad as they look. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Yara let out a breath. She loathed the thought of leaving the mage alone, especially when she was so vulnerable, but she couldn’t argue with Nathaniel. Remaining here would put them all in danger, and Bethany was in no state to travel. Yet it would be the first time in years that she and Bethany would be apart, and it was starting to hit home.

Before she’d give in to her tears, Yara wrapped her arms around the mage.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

“You too,” Bethany replied, returning the hug. Eventually she withdrew, and turned to Nathaniel. “You’d better keep her in one piece, Nathaniel.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Nathaniel said. “In return, don’t push yourself too far, Beth. Or I’ll be having some cross words when we get back.”

“Oh my, is the scion of House Howe threatening me?” Bethany asked, holding a finger to her chin.

“Ha, as if the youngest of House Hawke could do anything in return,” Nathaniel jibed.

Bethany punched his arm, laughing.

“House Amell, actually,” she corrected. “Now for the love of Andraste, just get going! I’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

Despite herself, Yara smiled. She’d missed moments like these. And if the mage had her sense of humour back, she knew she’d recover quickly.

“Fine, fine,” Nathaniel said, holding up his arms. He stood, and Yara followed suit. “Let’s stock up on supplies, then we’ll leave.”

* * *

 

Night had fallen by the time Yara and Nathaniel left Haven. Gathering supplies had taken ages, even with Cassandra’s permissions, but worse was that the village had started to fill with scouts. As a result, Yara had to leave a lot of the work to Nathaniel. Still, it had given her a chance to eavesdrop, and she had picked up some useful snippets. There was still no word about the Left Hand, but nobody seemed particularly concerned. They were far more interested about the woman who’d been found in the Conclave ruins; the only true survivor. According to rumour, she’d fallen out of the Fade unconscious, and some said it had been Andraste herself who had delivered her. She was being kept under intense observation, but it was unclear if she would ever wake.

Nathaniel had started receiving strange looks, so he’d discarded his Warden uniform. Now he sported mercenary armour, and Yara had managed to get a set for herself as well. She also had a new sword and dagger, along with a proper scarf and fur-lined cloak. With her own wounds washed and dressed, she was certainly feeling a lot better. Yet the ominous green light continued to unnerve her, even as they returned to the rocky slopes. This was something too big to ignore.

They stopped at a ridge, catching their breath. Nathaniel raised a hand to his eyes, gazing at the pillar of jade.

“Almost doesn’t look real from here, does it?” he said. “I never thought any force on Thedas could tear open the sky like this.”

“They call it the Breach,” Yara said. “It’s some sort of window into the Fade itself. And it looks like it’s getting bigger.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Well, it’s not something we can deal with. We’d better get moving, before the demons start coming after us.”

They set off again, retracing their steps to the overturned carriage. It didn’t take long to find the burnt-out wreck. The bodies of the chevaliers were already half-buried in snow, and many had been defaced by scavengers. Even the blood patches remained. Yara shivered, and not just for the cold. Had Nathaniel not found them, she and Bethany could have easily shared their fate.

“So what are we looking for?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nathaniel answered. “When I…” He hesitated. “…when _we_ arrived from Ferelden, the Orlesian Wardens suddenly went missing. We planned to send out a search party, but a few days later they just reappeared, as if nothing had happened. The Divine didn’t want to delay proceedings, so we didn’t get a chance to question them. Then the night before talks were to start, one of them left the village. So I decided to follow him.”

“And?”

“He disappeared into a cave not far from here,” Nathaniel went on. “I searched everywhere, but couldn’t find a trace of him. So I went back, and Ranalle asked me to keep searching instead of attending the talks.” He took a shaky breath. “Not long after I’d left, the explosion happened. I was planning to run back, but then demons swarmed me. I fought most of them off, when one ran away. I chased it, and that was when I saw you and the Pride demon.”

A chill ran down Yara’s spine. Had Nathaniel not acted on his concerns, he would have been caught in the disaster like everyone else.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine what you were feeling when you saw the Conclave vanish.”

“It is what it is,” Nathaniel sighed. “Death is nothing new for us, Yara. Even Ranalle was preparing to hear her Calling any day now. It was going to be upon us at some point.”

“It’s alright to grieve, Nathaniel,” Yara said. “They were my friends as well.”

“I know,” Nathaniel said. “But crying won’t change anything. It’s better we find out what happened, and who was responsible. I’ll be saving an arrow just for them.” He looked to Yara. “Besides, I’m simply grateful I didn’t lose _everyone_.” His resolve finally cracked. “I’m so happy to have you two back.”

Yara stopped walking. Without a second thought she pulled Nathaniel into an embrace. Nathaniel swiftly put his arms around her.

“I promise I won’t leave you again,” Yara said softly. “We’ll do whatever it takes to see our friends avenged. I swear it.”

“Thank you, Yara.”

They stayed together for a moment, consoled by each other’s presence. Then Nathaniel let go, wiping his eyes.

“Maker, this is embarrassing,” he said. “You’re not to speak of this to anyone, you hear?”

“My lips are sealed,” Yara said, glad for the lighter mood. “Anyway, you were saying about the Orlesian Wardens. You think their behaviour and the explosion are linked?”

“I doubt it was coincidence,” Nathaniel said. “I remember one of them approached us, as if in a trance. But for whatever reason he changed his mind and didn’t speak a word. It just rubbed me the wrong way.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Yara said. “But what would the Wardens gain from this disaster?”

“I don’t understand either,” Nathaniel admitted. “That’s why I hope I’m wrong.”

He took the lead, climbing the rest of the hill. As they came to the next ridge, Yara spotted a series of caves that led deep into the Frostbacks. The snow had yet to cover their carriage tracks; it seemed she and Bethany had gone right past them.

Yara followed Nathaniel across the steep path, until they reached the centre cavern. They lit their torches, then walked into the darkness. Her light didn’t reveal much, only scarred walls and frozen puddles. As they ventured further, however, the air changed. It became more pressing and heavy, and Yara found herself taking deeper breaths.

Their passage began to branch. Nathaniel kept a specific route, taking the same path he had when following the rogue Warden. Yara noted chalk marks on the wall—how Nathaniel had stopped himself getting lost. Eventually, after the fourth branch, he stopped.

“This was where I lost him,” he said, pointing to the next set of tunnels that split into three.

“We should stick together,” Yara said. She stepped towards the middle branch, scanning the walls with her torch. It appeared harmless enough. However, before she explored further, Nathaniel called out.

“Yara, over here!”

Yara retreated to the chamber. Nathaniel was crouched by the left branch, studying a dark patch on the ground. Yara peered closer, and realised it was blood. More droplets led further inside, and she swallowed.

“I guess we’d better go this way,” she said.

They followed the blood trail. Nathaniel discarded his torch, taking up his bow. Yara licked her lips, her senses on edge. Her mind tried to reason; it could’ve just been an animal bringing home a kill. Nonetheless, her gut knew better. This was something far less innocent.

The patches became larger, like streams feeding a river. The coppery smell worsened, and Yara took to breathing through her mouth. It was too much like the blood mage’s hideout. By the time they reached the next chamber, the entire ground was saturated.

“Maker, what is this?” Yara cringed, trying to shake off dried clots from her boots. “One person can’t bleed this much.”

“You’re right about that,” Nathaniel said, grimacing. “Look.”

Yara turned to where he was pointing, and her mouth pooled with saliva. She had to spit it out, bile souring her throat. At least ten corpses were piled against the wall, their eyes wide and gaping. Their bodies were twisted unnaturally, and pieces of their limbs were missing. Beneath the filth and blood she could just make out a silver griffon sigil. Her eyes widened.

“Wardens,” she whispered.

“I don’t like this.” Nathaniel nocked an arrow, wary. “Keep your eyes open. We might be walking into a trap.”

Yara raised her torch, taking her sword into her other hand. She tried not to concentrate on the squelching as they headed to the chamber exit. This tunnel was much narrower, and she took slow, deep breaths. Then it sloped, and she had to crouch. Her hands trembled, her steps slowing.

“Yara?” Nathaniel grasped her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Yara could only nod. Confined spaces always did this to her. Swallowing, she forced her legs to move. It couldn’t be like this forever. She had to move.

The path’s descent grew steeper and steeper, almost becoming sheer. Yara pressed herself against the wall, praying she wouldn’t slide into oblivion. Dust tickled her nose, and she fervently brushed it away. Unfortunately, it was to no avail. The irritation was too much, and she let out a violent sneeze. The rocks shuddered, and Yara lost her footing. She grappled with the wall, but the stones had become too smooth. With nothing to support her, she screamed, rocketing through the darkness.

She hit the ground, skidding across the flattened stone. Her torch flew from her fingers, and she gasped. She was shortly joined by Nathaniel, who’d also slipped. Choking, she drew herself to her hands and knees, her left side aching. She must’ve scraped it.

“Ow,” Nathaniel winced, sitting up. “Yara, are you hurt?”

“I’ll…live,” Yara coughed, the dust catching in the back of her throat. She fumbled for her water flask, and took a long sip. By some miracle her torch remained lit. Once she was recovered, she reclaimed it. She headed back to where they’d fallen, brushing aside fallen stone. “Damn it, we can’t climb this.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful,” Nathaniel muttered. He rose to his feet, examining their surroundings. Yara also glanced around, and she blinked. They were no longer beneath naked stone. Instead the floor was made of tiles, the walls carved with runes.

“We’re in the Deep Roads?” She cast her torch around. Even though it had been years since she’d been in such a place, there was no mistaking the dwarven markings. She wandered around, lighting the braziers. Eventually her light fell to the corner, and she almost jumped. Another body lay there, this one killed only recently. His Warden uniform was soiled, his fingers still clenched around his sword.

“Maker, that’s him!” Nathaniel said. “What in the world is…”

A vicious snarl echoed, blotting out the rest of his words. Yara glanced left, when a towering genlock broke from the shadows. She yelped, dropping her torch and twisting to avoid the creature’s axe.

“Darkspawn?!” Nathaniel loosed his first arrow, sinking it into his target’s neck. Yara growled, drawing her blades, then flung herself at the nearest beast. It swung at her, but she ducked and answered with her weapon. The genlock groaned, trying to pull out the dagger in its throat. Yara was quicker, and thrust her sword through its belly. It crumpled to its knees, dead. Withdrawing her blades, Yara whirled around, teeth bared. Thankfully, that seemed to be all of them. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, her chest tight with unease.

“How can this be?” Nathaniel kicked at a darkspawn corpse. “I didn’t even sense them!”

“Me neither,” Yara answered. “Do you think it’s because of the Breach?”

“Hardly. Our abilities have nothing to do with the Fade,” Nathaniel reasoned. “Even demons can’t mask a darkspawn’s presence.” His face was drawn. “We have to find out what’s going on.”

Yara sheathed her blades, then relit her torch. As usual, most of the doors were sealed, so she strode towards the nearest opening. As she approached, the hairs on her neck prickled. Eyes narrowed, she managed to cross into the next passage. Her torchlight grew weak, and Yara blinked. Something was shifting in the darkness ahead, like mist. She tried to take another step, when something sticky began to drip onto her hand.

Her torch was melting!

Quickly she backed away, throwing the mushy wood aside. It continued to corrode, until there was nothing left. Nathaniel swore.

“What in the Maker’s name…” Yara studied the mist. It didn’t seem to be leaking further, but she knew better than to approach it again. If it could do that to a stake, she dreaded to think what it might do to her arm.

Nathaniel, too, was entranced. He was silent for a long while, before he snapped his fingers.

“Wait. I think I’ve seen this before,” he murmured.

“What?” Yara blinked. “Where?”

“A Deep Roads tunnel not far from Ansburg,” Nathaniel answered. “I came across it with Stroud when we were fighting the rebel mages. It wasn’t as concentrated as this, though.” He frowned. “And I never saw it do _that_.”

Yara chewed her lip.

“Is this what the Taint is, in its raw form?” she pondered aloud. “Could this by why the Orlesian Wardens were acting so strangely?”

“Maybe,” Nathaniel answered. “But I don’t feel much different. And I’ve never seen the Taint exist like this. Usually it’s always in something.”

“Whatever the case, we need to look into this,” Yara said.

“Agreed,” Nathaniel said. “We’ll go back to Alistair, tell him what happened. Once Bethany is recovered, of course.”

Yara sighed, striding back to the steep passage.

“Well, we’re certainly not getting out the way we came,” she said. “We’ll have to try another path.”

* * *

 

It took much longer to escape than Yara anticipated. When she and Nathaniel finally emerged back into the freezing air, she’d lost track of all time. They had wandered the Deep Roads for what seemed like an eternity, with no idea if it was midday or midnight. At least two days had passed, if not more, and now they were miles from the caverns where they started. Instead they were on the opposite side of the valley, much closer to the Breach. The sun was high and blinding, and Yara blinked, disorientated after so long shut up in darkness.

Once her eyes adjusted, she glanced to the green light pillar. It was still in the same place, and yet the edges of the tear above seemed different to when she’d last looked. Something had changed.

“Thank the Maker, we’re out!” Nathaniel breathed, savouring the fresh air. “I thought we’d be stuck in the shadows forever.”

“I hope Beth hasn’t missed us,” Yara said. “Come on.”

She led the way back to Haven. Her unease came with her, and she clenched her fists. The sooner they picked up the mage and left, the better.

Finally, they arrived. Yara raised a brow; Haven was almost unrecognisable. Log cabins had sprung up, and a training ground for soldiers had been set up as well. The infirmary remained, the numbers of wounded much less than when they’d left. The Chantry had been opened up as well, and a parchment bearing a symbol Yara had not seen before had been pinned to its doors.

“Maker, they’ve been busy,” Nathaniel commented. “How long have we been away for?”

“There’s Beth,” Yara said. The mage was sitting on a bench by the Chantry’s east wing, alone. She’d been given fresh clothes, but her expression looked anything but settled. Yara tensed. Something had happened.

Tying up her scarf again, she approached Bethany. A few guards turned their eyes to her, but she ignored them. Her boots crunched across the snow, which seemed thicker and icier. They must’ve been gone for more than just two days. Bethany caught her steps, and looked up. Her face creased with panic, silently screaming for Yara to get away.

“Beth?” Yara reached out, but Bethany held herself rigid. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Yara,” Bethany whispered. That was when Yara noticed the chain at her ankle, concealed beneath her boot. “She survived, after all.”

Yara’s mouth went dry. Alas, there was no time to think. Suddenly her arms were grabbed and pinned behind her. Her blades were freed from their sheaths, and she was forced to her knees.

“Yara!” Nathaniel made towards her, but he was blocked by more soldiers. They hauled him away, when new steps drew near. Yara caught sight of tarnished silver greaves, and her chest gave way.

“And so, we finally meet,” a new voice said; Orlesian. “Or should I say, we meet again, _Warden_.”

Yara looked up, the colour drained from her face. A red-haired woman stood before her. She wore a lilac hood and light mail, and held her arms behind her back. Her grey-blue eyes were far colder than the surrounding snow, and she flashed a dark smile.

The Left Hand had found her prize at last.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very special thank you to Aeowyn and Raven Sinead for their valuable feedback in shaping this chapter!

Sister Nightingale nodded to the guards. Yara was hauled onto her feet, rope wrapped around her wrists. The twine scraped her skin, but it might as well have been the brush of silk. Her mind was numb, her eyes unbelieving.

“Leliana, stop!” Bethany reached for the Left Hand, but her ankle chain caught. She grimaced, forced to sit again. Her voice broke Yara’s stupor, and she blinked. How did Bethany know the Left Hand’s name?

“This could have been avoided,” Leliana said, not turning to face the mage. “You didn’t need to shelter a murderer, Bethany.”

“Yara is not a murderer!” Bethany snapped.

“And where is your proof?” Leliana stepped forward, tearing Yara’s scarf from her shoulders. She forced open her collar, revealing the necklace. Her eyes widened. “I have all I need here.”

She snapped the vial off its chain. Yara winced, as if a part of her had also been severed. As tarnished as the necklace had become to her, it was still a precious token. Leliana studied it briefly, then turned to the guards.

“Bring her to the cells. I will question her myself.”

“And what of the other Wardens?”

“You may release them,” Leliana stated. “They are not a part of this.”

“Leliana, in the name of the Maker, don’t do this!” Bethany cried. “This isn’t you!”

For a moment Leliana hesitated. Then she set her jaw, her gaze hardened.

“I’ve given your freedom, as I promised,” she said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She nodded to the guards, and Yara was led towards the Chantry. Every step deepened her dread, as if she were approaching the executioner’s block. Leliana walked beside her, tracing her fingers over the pendant. It felt so violating, but there was little Yara could do to protest.

The Chantry hall was dim, fragrant with candle smoke and wood polish. Yara’s footfalls echoed on the stone floor, soon drowned by the armoured steps of her guard. They came to the west wing, and Leliana unlocked the entrance. The air was musty and stagnant, and Yara coughed. The place had been shut up for a while.

They descended into a long corridor. The quiet was ominous, amplifying Yara’s pounding heart. Blood rushed through her ears, and it was all she could do to keep dizziness at bay. Torches flickered against the walls, as weak and feeble as her hope. She knew the Left Hand’s mind had been made up. Her ‘questioning’ was merely a formality.

At last they stopped in a low-ceilinged chamber. Cells lined the walls, filled with rotting hay and tattered blankets. Two pillars also stood in the room, a set of chains dangling between them. Yara shivered. Why would a Chantry house such a secure prison?

A guard made to open a cell, but Leliana shook her head. Instead she pointed to the chains.

“Place her there,” she said.

“Your Grace?”

“Do as I command.”

The guard pulled Yara between the pillars, as the other untied her hands. She was stripped of her gauntlets and armour, and her left wrist encased in metal. Her right one followed, and she was left to hang, arms outstretched. Completely defenceless.

“Good,” Leliana murmured. “Take position outside. No-one is to interrupt, not even the Herald. I will call for you when I am done.”

The guards shared an uneasy glance. Nonetheless, they saluted and left the chamber. Once they had disappeared, Leliana began to pace around Yara. She said nothing, gazing between her and the pendant. Each step sent tremors through Yara, and sweat pooled at her neck. After so many years of running, this moment had finally arrived.

Eventually the silence became too much, and Leliana spoke.

“I’m sure you’ve had long enough to prepare your story.” She stopped behind Yara. “You have a token that belonged to the Hero of Ferelden. A fact I’ve now confirmed.” She let the pendant rattle in her hand. “How did you come across it?”

“I…I don’t remember,” Yara croaked. Her mouth was like sand.

“That is not an answer,” Leliana said. “I travelled with the Hero, and she never took this off. Even when she faced the Archdemon, she bore it proudly.” Her voice lowered, her breath hot against Yara’s ear. “So why do you have it?”

“I…I said I don’t remember.” Yara’s pulse raced. It was so hard to concentrate.

“What do you remember, then?”

Yara licked her parched lips.

“I-I woke in Amaranthine, after an accident.”

“Oh?” Maker, did she have to stand so close? “What kind of accident?”

Yara swallowed, saliva burning her throat.

“I don’t know. I have no memories,” she said. “All I had was that pendant. I swear.”

Leliana laughed; a sound that sent chills through Yara.

“How very convenient.” She started her pacing again. “How did you arrive in Amaranthine?”

“An…An apostate brought me.”

“Yet you just said you had no memories,” Leliana countered. “There is little point hiding the truth, Warden. I will find it all the same.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t remember!” Yara snapped, her chains jingling.

“Don’t remember, or don’t want to?” Leliana snatched Yara’s collar, her grey-blue eyes like steel. “What did you do to her?”

“I…” A dull ache rang through Yara’s temples, and her vision blurred. No, not now!

_A cold, snowy wasteland. Temple ruins, forgotten for eons. My head is pounding. The light burns. Her knife is at my neck. Tears of betrayal mark her cheeks._

_“Why in Andraste’s name are you doing this?!”_

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Leliana said, jerking Yara back to the present. “What did you do to Elissa Cousland?”

“I…I didn’t…”

_She screams, surrounded. The forest is suffocating, but I keep running. My swords come alive. Victory is swift. She holds her arm, soaked crimson. Her smile teases me._

_“Your touch is as gentle as ever…”_

“Answer me!” Leliana yanked the chains, twisting the muscles in Yara’s back. Yara cried out, the Pride demon’s wound like fire.

“I can’t!”

_The warehouse is vast. Agony snares my leg. I have to find her. She cries out, fighting the nightmare from her past. A misplaced hold; the tarred blade turned against her. The poison that almost claimed me._

_“No!”_

Leliana grabbed Yara, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Did you laugh as she lay there dying, snatching her spoils like a common grave-robber?” she hissed. “Did you challenge her and plead for mercy, only to stab her in the back?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Yara howled. “I didn’t kill her!”

_The fortress that withstood the might of Orlais. Even its champion cannot hold me. Yet I pay in blood. So cold, so dark. It hurts so much. The shadows beckon._

“See how your story changes with every breath?” Leliana growled. “I will have the truth from you!”

“I-I can’t…”

_I awaken again. She smiles. Such warmth, but her eyes still hold pain. My fault. Her fingers, so soft against my cheek._

“Liar!” Leliana reached into her boot, withdrawing a silver knife. “Why did you kill her?!”

“I didn’t…I don’t…”

_Her fingertips roam. My senses come alive._

_“I won’t hurt you…”_

“You cannot keep your silence forever!”

_She pulls me closer. I shiver._

Leliana tore Yara’s shirt, exposing skin.

“No!”

_Her lips against mine, a fire ignites in my chest…_

Leliana lost her patience. The cold steel burned, and Yara shrieked.

“ _You said you’d never hurt me!”_

Leliana stopped dead. Yara’s cry faded, and the world hung in stillness. Seconds turned to minutes, yet the Left Hand could only stare, her mouth agape.

“What…What did you say?” Leliana’s gaze hardened, but her knife-hand trembled.

Yara sagged against her chains, her chest heaving. The pressure was too much, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She could only sob, her tears unending. Her heart was shattered, each fragment tearing open long-forgotten wounds. Pain choked her from all sides, far deeper than the cut of any blade.

“Speak!” Leliana gripped Yara’s face, and Yara whimpered.

“No more.” She could barely bring forth the words. “I…I don’t want…”

Leliana’s eyes blazed. She slapped Yara, hard, and Yara hissed, tasting blood.

“You think I care about what you want?!” Venom dripped from every word. “You killed the woman I loved!” Her voice shook. “After all she’d fought for and sacrificed, she had a chance to _live_ , and you… _you_ …”

She renewed her grip on her knife, stepping forward again.

“Please,” Yara rasped.

Leliana scoffed.

“You have no right to beg for mercy!”

Her blade came to Yara’s side once more. Even then, her hand remained hesitant. Her eyes danced over Yara’s body, suddenly caught by the scars. They were a myriad of shapes and shades; wounds old and new, healed and re-healed. Each crossed the Left Hand’s gaze, and Yara yearned for the Maker to strike her sight there and then.

Leliana gasped. A broad, faded outline stood out to her, running from the centre of Yara’s chest all the way to her left hip.

“It can’t be.” Leliana lowered her knife, tracing her finger across the mark. “How could…who would…”

“Don’t touch me!” Yara screeched, thrashing against her bonds. The Left Hand’s touch reviled her, intrusive, unwanted, cold…and yet so achingly _familiar_.

Leliana snatched her hand away, silent. Her brows creased, but her confusion was soon eclipsed by anger. She grabbed Yara’s hair, wrenching her forwards. Yara cried out.

“What kind of deranged fool are you?” The Left Hand’s lip curled. “Even if you didn’t murder her, if you only found her dead and wanted a reward for your trouble, to sever yourself like this, to mimic the wound that almost…” She couldn’t finish, and her knife returned, this time to Yara’s throat. “Was your jealousy that petty? Did you seek to claim Elissa Cousland’s glory for your own, to usurp her identity for the wealth it would bring?”

Yara could only manage a slight shake of her head. Leliana was losing her mind.

“You sicken me!” The knife pressed closer, and Yara snapped her eyes shut. She prayed it would be quick. “How dare you take a blade and…”

The rest of her words faded, as Yara’s vision went black. The cells and torchlight fell away, and all she knew was the fire that seared through her side.

_She screams my name. It brings as much pain as the sword that tore through me. Warm hands grab me, but it is too much. I shriek, and the cold returns. Another grip, harsher, but I have no strength to cry again. The darkness hovers, inviting me to rest…_

_“Don’t let her fall asleep!”_

Yara’s head lolled forward, and her body shuddered in the chains. The icy blade had disappeared, but her limbs continued to jerk, reliving the memory. Her consciousness flitted between past and present, blurring them together.

“I won’t…fall ‘sleep.” Her words were slurring. “Blue…I guess…”

Leliana jerked back. She dropped her knife, cradling the hand that held it to her chest. It was her turn to tremble now. Her eyes filled with horror.

“Maker above, what have I…” She shook her head, clenching her fingers around Yara’s pendant. “How can this be …after all this time…you shouldn’t _know_ …but that means…”

She grasped the chains, releasing the locks. Yara fell into her arms, the shock breaking her from the memory. Her touch ignored panic, and she kicked out, screaming. She wouldn’t go back into the darkness.

Leliana let go, and Yara collapsed against a pillar. The chill of the stone bit into her, and she clung to it, curling her head against her knees. Her whole body shook, but she didn’t care. Anything to freeze the frenzy that was ripping her mind apart.

Leliana knelt beside her, unable to tear her eyes from the scar.

“Elissa?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“No!” Yara clamped her hands over her ears. Suddenly she didn’t want to hear that name. She didn’t want to hear the Left Hand’s voice. Not when it seeped into her, provoking a longing she hadn’t felt in almost a decade. Not when it felt like a burning brand through her chest.

“It _has_ to be you!” Leliana repeated, more to herself than Yara. “But why don’t you remember?” She offered her hand, but Yara shrank away.

“Stay away!” Yara’s voice was hoarse. Nausea bubbled in her throat, and her head throbbed. “I wasn’t…I can’t…”

“Elissa, listen to me,” Leliana begged. Her eyes misted. “What…what happened to you? I…I didn’t realise…”

“Shut up!” Yara pulled the remains of her shirt across her chest. “How can you…I’m not…you don’t even…”

“Scars cannot lie!” Leliana pointed to Yara’s side. “That was made by Ser Cauthrien. I was there! And you _do_ remember. You spoke the very same…”

“Elissa Cousland is _dead_!” Yara snapped. She couldn’t listen to this. The Left Hand was toying with her.

“Her body was never found!” Leliana shot back. “I sent countless scouts to try and recover it, but they always failed! Year after year after year…” Her voice cracked. “Because you were still alive.”

Yara buried her head further, wrapping her arms around herself. It wasn’t true. It _couldn’t_ be true. The Hero of Ferelden had fallen from the tallest tower, buried under tonnes of rubble. Nobody could have survived that. Nobody.

Leliana let out a shaky breath. Before she could speak, angry footfalls echoed from the corridor.

“Leliana, what is the meaning of this?!”

Cassandra stormed into the room, nostrils flared. She glared at Leliana, then to Yara. Her brows arched.

“You have some explaining to do!” the Seeker demanded. “You’ve been holding the Champion’s sister prisoner and never thought to tell me?” She punched her fist against the wall. “Now you hold a private interrogation on a Warden, without first…”

She trailed off, realising that Leliana wasn’t listening. She clenched her fist, then strode over and grasped her shoulder. Leliana hardly responded.

“Leliana?” The Seeker shook her. “What is the matter?” She cast daggers at Yara. “If this one has caused…”

“Leave her.” Leliana slowly stood up, shrugging off Cassandra’s hand. Her grey-blue eyes were burnt out. The Seeker tensed. She had never seen her friend act like this. When Leliana failed to continue, she rolled her eyes.

“We have no time for this,” Cassandra declared. “Whatever grievance this Warden has caused, it will have to wait.” She called to the guards, and they appeared from the shadows. “Lock her away for now. We will deal with this later.”


	6. Chapter 6

Yara was curled against the wall of her cell, immersed in shadow. The guards had been kind enough to return her overcoat and cloak, but even those couldn’t take away the chill inside. Her food rations remained untouched, as did the simple bedroll on the floor. She kept her arms around herself, her palm clamped where Leliana’s knife had almost nicked skin. There wasn’t any cut, yet she couldn’t help but be aware of it. Even now her shriek echoed in her head; words torn from deep within. Words that still held no meaning to her.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, the crackle of the torches her only comfort. All too soon dark visions stirred, and she blinked. It took so little to provoke the flashbacks now. They came without warning, razing her senses and stealing her breath away. Sleep had been impossible, so she remained frozen, oblivious to her aching back and shoulders. Even her thoughts were sluggish, as if submerged in tar. All she could focus on was the tingle at her side—the only thing that stopped her drowning in darkness.

Steps echoed from the corridor, steadily growing louder. Yara didn’t move, even when they stopped before her cell. The door hinges squealed, and a gentle hand came to her shoulder. Yara flinched. It was not the first time she had been visited.

“Yara, it’s alright. It’s me again.” Bethany crouched beside her. Yara remained tense, and the mage withdrew her hand. “Maker, what did she do to you?”

The muscles in Yara’s throat constricted, but no sound came out. She couldn’t even raise her head. Just like all the times before. Her heart rumbled, always a beat away from descending into chaos. She couldn’t let the moment move on.

Bethany sighed. She reached for Yara’s hand, but Yara pressed her fingers deeper into her side.

“Did she wound you there?” Bethany spoke softly. “Please, let me look Yara. I won’t…”

_I won’t hurt you._

Tightness gripped Yara, and she recoiled. Those damn words still mocked her, trying to drag her back.

A pained look crossed Bethany’s face. She didn’t try to touch Yara again. Instead she sat beside her. Silence settled once more, and Yara felt the mage’s eyes on her.

“Why won’t you say anything?”

Yara managed a slow blink. The air rolled between her lips, cold, numbing. Stillness was the key, the only way to stay afloat. The past brimmed with pain, threatening to erupt, while the future held another agony waiting to crush her. Both held the same truth, one too unbearable to accept. She had to cling to the present, to keep from being swamped with despair.

 _But scars cannot lie_.

Bethany looked away.

“This is all my fault.” A pause, followed by a quiet sniffle. “I’m sorry.” She shuffled closer, her breath ruffling Yara’s hair. “There has to be something I can do. Tell me, please, anything!”

Her voice bit into Yara, but even that would not penetrate the fog. She tightened her grip around herself. To acknowledge the mage would mean leaving the moment; leaving safety. She couldn’t.

“Yara!” Bethany grasped Yara’s shoulders, tears soaking her cheeks. “I’m begging you, just…”

The sudden pressure on her arms made Yara jerk. The darkness stirred, snatching her breath, tearing her away.

_Warmth grabs my hand, forcing me to turn around. Red hair and an anguished glare stare back, refusing to let me walk away. Her grey-blue eyes are begging, pleading._

_“We need you!” she cries. “You can’t just turn your back on the world!”_

_My voice becomes ice._

_“Like it’s turned its back on me?”_

Yara howled, fighting to return to the light. The hands that held her were suffocating, smothering. No, she couldn’t go back, she wouldn’t go back!

“Bethany, let her go!”

Another voice; deeper, masculine. Footsteps, and then Yara was free again. She scrambled against the wall, the icy stone burning. She clung to it, inhaling the biting air. It was her anchor from the shadows. Her hand returned to her side, her only line of defence.

“But Nathaniel, she’s been like this for days!” Bethany sobbed. “She hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept…”

“She’s still in complete shock. We have to give her time.” Nathaniel let out a breath. “Don’t you think this hurts me as well?” Leather creaked. “The best we can do is keep ourselves together for her. She’ll need us when she’s ready.”

Bethany sniffed, holding her hand to her eyes. A long moment passed, and then the hay rustled. The bars creaked closed, and Yara was left alone.

She listened to their fading steps, hunched against her knees. Still Bethany’s cry lingered, slowly cutting through. At last something gave way, and moisture rolled down Yara’s cheek. A sharp breath escaped her, but there was no use fighting anymore. The tears came in floods, and she whimpered into her arms.

* * *

 

_The dawn comes far too soon. The light breaks into the room, and I wish I could stop it in its tracks. The final day of this impossible journey has arrived; a day I have both dreaded and longed for. It will mark the end of this cursed Blight…or perhaps its true beginning. Yet whatever happens, it is the close of this chapter, and nothing will be the same again._

_She murmurs beside me, wrapped in our blanket. Her fiery hair is tousled on her pillow, her breath flowing through her parted lips. I run my fingers over her bare shoulder, and she sighs. It seems an eternity since I first realised my feelings for her, yet it has been but a scarce few weeks. It could have been much longer, had I not been so crippled with fear. What I would do to have another chance, but there is no point yearning. I can only try to make up for lost time._

_I sit up, reaching for my shirt on the floor. Many buttons are snapped clean off; victims to our passion the night before. It brings a smile to my lips. As I slide the fabric over my head, the bed creaks. Soon her arms are around me, her head resting against my shoulder._

_“It cannot be morning already.” Her voice is quiet._

_I grasp her interlocked hands._

_“Time will not wait for anyone,” I answer._

_Her hold tightens. “It should for us.”_

_I turn slightly, and press my lips to her forehead. She shivers, pressing closer. Her scent is overpowering, and I take a sharp breath. I want it burned into my lungs forever._

_“It will be over soon,” I murmur._

_I feel her nod, and she withdraws a little. She cups my cheek, and her smile returns._

_“It has been a long and dangerous path.” She twists a lock of my hair around her finger. “But one we have treaded together, and we are all the stronger for it.” She steals a kiss from the corner of my mouth. “I will always treasure these moments. I have no regrets.” Warmth tickles my ear. “I love you.”_

_Her fingers roam, sliding beneath my shirt. My skin ignites under her caress, and my eyes close. Her lips find mine, and my breaths are no longer my own. A gasp escapes her, and all thoughts of the light outside are forgotten. What burns inside is brighter than any sun. It runs wild in my veins, maddening me with desire. My hands trace her back, a map of ridges and scars that have become familiar._

Scars that cannot lie…

 _Abruptly her touches cease, leaving me cold. My heart pines. I want—no,_ need _her warmth again. I break our kiss, a confused whisper on my breath._

_Her grey-blue eyes harden, and the moment shatters. White hot agony blazes between my ribs, and a cry is torn from my throat. A different kind of warmth runs down my side, and my skin turns clammy. Gasping, I grab the wound, the blood pouring between my fingers._

_What…_

_In dazed horror I turn to her. She still leans against me, but now a knife rests in her hand. The blade remains in my flesh, slick with crimson. Acid burns in her gaze. My mouth is frozen, and I can barely force the words out._

_“Leliana…w-why?”_

_Her name is a stabbing pain, and I do not understand. How could something I cherish and love become so tainted, so blackened…_

_Her smile is vicious; a mockery of what came before. She twists the knife deeper, and I howl. The blood runs faster, and my vision swims. Her lip curls._

_“Because you killed her!”_

* * *

 

Yara screamed, bursting into wakefulness. The world blurred into fire and shadow, and she scrambled for the wound at her side. Every breath hurt, every pulse another blade within her chest. She grasped her ribs, pressing so hard her fingers left marks. But no blood was plastered to her shirt, no cut made her wince. She kept brushing her palm over her side, reaffirming the skin was intact. It was a dream, a dream. The rush of images and feelings began to pass, and she choked out a cry.

Why…why?

Trembling, Yara sank against the wall. She lay there, staring at the ceiling. Her breathing gradually calmed, and she swallowed. Her throat was so dry, her lips cracked and sore. The water flask remained by the cell door, untouched. Thirst was suddenly all she knew, banishing every other thought. She could ignore it no longer. She raised a shaking hand, her fingers grasping at air. The flask was just out of reach.

Her arm fell, losing strength. Her eyes closed, pulling her into the darkness again. No, please…

The bars groaned, forced open. Steps came to her side. A hand came to her neck, tilting her head back, and then beautiful coldness wet her lips. Yara gulped greedily, the icy flow bringing her senses to life again. She almost forgot to breathe, until the flask was pulled from her. She coughed.

“Hey, slow down.” A woman’s voice; one Yara did not recognise. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Yara blinked, her vision coming back into focus. A young woman was crouched beside her. She had pale skin and unruly auburn hair, but what stuck out were her eyes. The right one was blue, while the other shimmered green. Still, she was completely unfamiliar, and Yara couldn’t help but shrink away.

The woman let out a breath. She offered the flask again, and Yara took it. Although her days of silence had left her weak, she could still raise it to her mouth. She took several further sips, more carefully this time. Too soon it was empty, and she sighed.

“Thank…thank you,” she whispered; the first words to have left her in days.

The woman’s mismatched eyes sparkled.

“Well, I’m glad you seem to have found your voice again,” she said. “Can’t be much fun sitting here, stewing in your own thoughts.”

Yara tensed. It wasn’t lost on the woman, and she raised her hands.

“Whoa, too soon?” She brushed her hair back, managing a lop-sided smile. “Heh, what can I say? I don’t mince my words.”

“Who are you?” Yara asked.

“Ah, that’s right, we haven’t been introduced yet.” The woman sat straighter. “Unofficially, people are calling me the Herald of Andraste, but I’ll spare you that nonsense. Name’s Lahara Trevelyan, formerly of the Ostwick Circle. A pleasure.”

Yara blinked. A mage. Yet her title made no sense.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that would mean much, either,” Lahara admitted. “But I’m a friend. I promise.”

Yara found herself drawing her knees to her chest.

“Why are you here?”

Lahara picked up a piece of straw, rolling it between her fingers.

“Call it a favour, I guess,” she said. “You’ve caused almost as much stir as I have, you know. Your friends are sick with worry, Leliana’s all over the place, and Cassandra is absolutely furious. As you can imagine, that doesn’t make for a happy mix, especially with the Chantry breathing down our necks and demanding their own answers.” She flicked the straw aside, reclining on her hands. “So I promised your mage friend I’d pay a visit, to see if I could help you.”

Yara scoffed. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Am I?” Lahara gestured to the empty flask. “That’s the first drink you’ve had in a while, and we’re having such a lovely conversation.”

Yara looked away. “Just…Just leave me.”

“Aw, and when we were just getting to know each other better, too,” Lahara whined. She gave an exaggerated stretch, before standing up. “Look, I won’t pretend I understand what’s going on. But trust me when I say you’re not doing yourself any favours sulking here.” Her voice turned grave. “It wasn’t long ago that _I_ was in this cell, thinking the exact same thing.”

She turned and strode into the corridor. As her foot stepped onto the stone, Yara felt a tug in her chest.

“Wait.”

Lahara stopped. She glanced back, brow raised. Yara sighed.

“It’s not that I don’t want…but…” Speech failed her, and she hung her head.

“I get it, Yara,” Lahara said. “The world can change in a single moment, and leave you stranded. It’s not a nice place to be. A limbo where you can’t look forward or back, in case the truth brings everything you thought you knew about yourself crashing down.”

Her words struck close, and Yara held her chest. How could this mage describe the pain that gnawed inside so perfectly…

“But there comes a point where you have to change, as well,” Lahara went on. “Either you can cry over what was, or try to make right what will be.” She clenched her left fist. “In the end, I chose to move forward. I can only hope you’ll do the same, too.”

She strode off into the corridor. Her footfalls echoed, until they were gone. The quiet hummed in Yara’s ears, and she let out a breath. She remained still, her fingers around the empty flask. Lahara’s words continued to sink in, and she licked her lips. Such sincerity could not be faked—the Herald had faced a similar pain, but she had not overcome it. Instead she’d found a way to carry it, letting it drive her, rather than cripple her.

The question was, could Yara?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-6 have undergone a light edit (content remains unchanged, just reads better!).
> 
> Sorry for the delay—had to rework part of the upcoming plot as it didn’t fit.
> 
> Also if anyone is wondering about Leliana’s eye colour- it’s a creative headcanon on my part, as in the dim lighting of Dragon Age Origins they always looked greyish to me, but I do know they’re more blue.

 

Yara let out a breath, resting her head against the cell wall. The chill of stone had become something of a comfort now; her only distraction from the overwhelming thoughts. She wasn’t sure how many days she had spent in darkness, nor did she care. A deep weariness had settled within, and she had all but given up. Lahara’s words beckoned, but such advice was nothing against the torrent inside. No matter how Yara tried, she always returned to the same place. The twisted nightmares would not leave, and she’d become too afraid to let her eyes close. Even when sleep did claim her, it was never for long, and did nothing to bring the peace she craved.

How could she possibly move forward when the chains of the past held so tightly?

Absently she rubbed her side, tracing the scar that until now she’d never thought twice about. It was ironic how a mark that had brought her so close to death had ended up saving her. Yet while its origin remained a mystery, Leliana’s reaction had said it all. The horror that poured from her grey-blue eyes, her stammered words, how quickly she had switched from brutal interrogator to concerned lov…

Yara severed the thought before it would finish. No, it was a lie; another trick to make her confess to a crime that might never have even happened.

So why then had the Left Hand’s voice struck so keenly? Why had her questions provoked such violent flashbacks?

Why did the name Elissa Cousland suddenly _terrify_ her, as if…

Faint steps caught Yara’s ear. She blinked, retreating into her folded arms. It was probably Bethany again. She’d lost count of the number of times the mage had visited, begging her to come out, but Yara’s answer was always the same. Bethany just couldn’t understand. No-one could.

The steps halted. Yara watched the corridor, catching a shadow on the tiled floor. It remained there for a while, deliberating whether to turn back. Eventually Yara heard a pained sigh, and the footfalls continued. The shadow approached, but it was not Bethany that stared down at her. Instead a grey-blue gaze looked back, and Yara’s eyes widened.

Her hands started to shake, and she looked away. Even then that agonizing longing surfaced, and she grimaced. Why did her feelings twist like this? This was the woman who’d forced her to abandon her life as a Warden, who’d broken her mind and spirit, yet Yara’s heart still cried out, _wanting_ …

“Yara?” Leliana’s voice was hesitant. She stepped to the bars, and Yara shuddered. She backpedalled to the furthest corner, her breaths coming faster. Hadn’t the Left Hand done enough?

Leliana froze. The silence stretched on, and at last Yara dared to look up. The spymaster’s eyes were glistening.

“Please, I…I just want to talk.”

Yara didn’t answer. More than anything she wanted to run, to never hear that Orlesian lilt again, but she did not have the strength. She could only sit and listen.

Leliana took a breath. She was not at all the aloof interrogator she had been before. Her shoulders were slumped, her mask of steel shattered. She knelt outside the cell, letting her lilac hood flop down. Her fiery hair mirrored the torchlight, vibrant and warm. She sat motionless, gathering her thoughts.

“I know it…must be hard,” she said at last, “not recalling who you were before.” She reached around her neck, unfastening a clasp. A bronze chain coiled into her palm, and she clenched it tightly. She pressed it against her chest, then tossed it inside the cell. It jingled, landing beside Yara. “Do you recognise that?”

Her curiosity stirred, Yara plucked the chain from the straw. It had no pendant, but bore a silver ring. A coat of arms had been engraved onto the agate stone; one that seemed familiar. Yara ran her finger over it, and her mind rippled. Hissing, she tried to fight the rush of memory, but it was too late.

_I catch my breath, gazing at the fortress doors ahead. The last barrier between us and the Archdemon. It has taken a lot to get here. We pause but for a moment, taking precious minutes to ready ourselves for the final assault. I wipe my brow, and something pinches my finger. The Cousland ring remains upon my hand, as it has done since I took revenge upon Howe. Yet for some reason it stirs hesitation. As if it no longer belongs with me…_

_My eyes scan the darkness, soon finding her restringing her bow. I approach, and grasp her shoulder. She startles, but quickly flashes a smile._

_“May I call a favour?” I ask._

_She nods. “Of course.”_

_Removing my gauntlet, I pull the ring free and offer it to her. She stares at me, brow raised._

_“Your family ring?” Her voice trembles with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”_

_“I would not offer otherwise,” I answer. I cannot understand why my feeling has changed, but I know that I must not be the ring’s keeper any longer. “I know you’ll keep it safe for me.”_

_Her eyes narrow. “Surely you’re not…”_

_“I am only preparing for the worst, should it happen,” I reply. “Once this is over, you can give it back and mock me for melodrama.”_

_Her smile returns. “That is a promise, Elissa.”_

The present came rushing back, and Yara almost choked on her own breath. Her hands shook, barely able to keep hold of the ring. That damned _yearning,_ seizing every muscle, a choke-hold of compulsion she could not break…

She threw the ring aside, as if the very metal burned. At once Leliana shot to her feet. She ripped open the cell door, and Yara’s scream caught in her throat. She threw her arms over her head, her pulse ignited.

“S-Stay away!”

Leliana gasped, and the air fell quiet. Yara squeezed herself tighter, her shaking uncontrollable. _Leave me_ , her mind pleaded. _Maker above, just leave me!_

Finally a quiet sob broke the silence, and Leliana turned away.

“You truly…don’t remember…” She bent down to reclaim the ring, cradling it in her hands. “Does the Maker take joy in such cruelty?” She no longer fought to hold back tears. “I gave everything to serve Him, and I am rewarded by losing Justinia and having you returned to me…like _this_ …” She clenched her eyes shut, her fingers clamped around the ring. “The one wish I had above all else, and it turns to dust, just like everything else I touch!”

She ran from the cell, leaving the door ajar. Her steps faded, and silence returned. Yet even with her presence gone, Yara couldn’t stop her tremors. Agony rumbled between her ribs, and it was not just the maelstrom of piercing fear. A boundless craving also pressed upon her, making it so very hard to breathe.

An angry lump rose in Yara’s throat, and she clenched her fists. How could that woman hold this much power over her?! All it took was a single look, a single word, and she was reduced to _this_. A prisoner of her own mind, taunted by meaningless visions, pinned under the impossible weight of feelings she couldn’t control…

Something rattled through the corridor, breaking the storm. Yara jumped. She shrank into the shadows, shivering, her fingers tangled in her matted hair. She could not face another encounter, not now. The cold clawed at her clammy skin, and she could barely snatch her breath. Then the torches started to flicker, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something was happening outside. Teeth clenched, Yara curled into a ball, almost hoping the memories would take her first.

Suddenly the torchlight vanished, and Yara was left in total darkness. Her heart thundered, battering her ribs so hard she thought they would break. Although blinded, she could still taste the scent of mana, and her blood went cold. But already her thoughts were slipping, a whirlwind of images threatening to flood through. Yara snatched at her temples, and a howl escaped her lips.

“No, please, no, no!”

**_Won’t you stay with me, little girl?_ **

The air shuddered, and a blast of icy wind hit Yara’s face. Her eyes snapped open, blurry with tears, and her jaw hung slack. The darkness was no longer complete. An ember of green light had appeared in the corridor, summoned from no-where. It hovered for a moment, then erupted into life. The jade glow was blinding, and Yara shielded her face, colours spots dancing in the blackness.

A horrifying shriek echoed beside her, and she screamed. Plastered in sweat, she bolted to the other side of the cell. There she could only stare as the Despair demon emerged from the ground. It cackled, cloaked in rags and bathed in the sickly light. It reached out a skeletal hand, a hungry grin on its shrivelled face.

 ** _Such a banquet you hold inside!_** Its very breath froze the air. **_You heart and mind are overflowing, and your anguish is exquisite!_**

Yara covered her ears, but the deathly voice penetrated through.

 ** _I see everything,_** the demon taunted. **_All you know is loss. All you_ are _is loss! Your home, your family, your friends, even your forgotten lover! You have nothing left!_**

“S-Shut up!”

**_All that could have saved you lies within a past you can never reclaim…_ **

“I…no…you’re…”

 ** _You are trapped_** _,_ the demon hissed. **_That past will forever hold its will over you. You cannot deny it!_**

“No, no!”

**_And you will never escape it!_ **

The Despair demon lunged, and Yara cowered. However, as she awaited the claws that would rip her apart, the creature suddenly screamed. Blistering heat tore through the chill, and Yara’s cheeks flushed. Moments later a hand came around her shoulders, pulling her out of the cell.

“Move already, Yara!”

The voice of the Herald broke through, enough to let instinct take over. Yara scrambled from the smouldering straw, coughing on the smoke. She crawled out and crouched behind Lahara, who stood beneath a tangled star of green light. The Despair demon floundered in the cell, trying to douse its flaming rags. Lahara braced her staff, another fireball readied.

 ** _You will pay for interrupting my feast!_** the demon challenged, sending out a flurry of icicles. Lahara spun her staff, sending them straight back. As the demon dodged, she removed a sheath from her hip and tossed it to Yara. Yara caught it, recognising the leather strap. It was her own dagger.

“Hope you still know how to use it,” Lahara said, as the demon floated out of the bars, white mist escaping its mouth. “Send this one back to the Fade. I’ve got to close the rift!”

Yara could only nod. She swallowed, dark thoughts never far, but she forced herself to acknowledge the present. The rush of blood in her ears, the freezing air, the taste of mana on her tongue, the Despair demon’s pained moans…she let it all sink in, and she unsheathed her dagger. The roughness of the leather-wrapped hilt set her muscles alive, and she fell into a familiar grip. Suddenly nothing else mattered except her and her opponent, and her lip curled.

 ** _You cannot face me!_** the demon mocked. **_Your very presence gives me all the strength I need!_**

It let out a savage breath, and a bolt of ice burst from its lips. Yara darted left, and it shattered against the wall. Lahara rolled aside, her left hand glowing with the same green light as the rift. The demon spread it arms, and the bars and floor crackled with ice. Still Yara waited, and for the first time her anger outmatched her despair.

 ** _Fool,_** the demon rasped. **_You think a weapon in your hand will banish your fears? Your hand still trembles, hesitant, weak! You will never move forward!_**

Yara scowled, and broke into a charge. The Despair demon met her with its claws. Its frozen breath burned her cheeks, but she fought through and caught its wrists. The cold seeped deeper, chilling her bones, but it was useless against the inferno boiling inside. Yelling, Yara crushed the demon against the wall, snapping its jaw. Her dagger followed, and she rammed the blade into its neck. Once, twice, three times…she lost count, the sickening crunch a balm to her ears. The demon writhed, blackened blood pouring from the wounds.

 ** _I-Impossible!_** it cried. ** _Your heart is still screaming, still weeping, still bleeding!_**

 _“Then be drowned in it_!” Yara screeched.

 ** _You…You think…you can…silence…me?!_** The Despair demon clutched at the dagger, trying to wrest it free. Yara snarled, driving the blade deeper, severing its windpipe. The demon gasped, its final breath snatched away.

**_You…cannot…deny…your true…nature!_ **

Finally it crumpled, and Yara pulled her dagger clear. She sank to her knees, breathing hard. At the same moment, the rift behind started to crackle. Lahara grimaced, fighting the tendrils of energy that joined her left hand to the web of light. Her brow was soaked, but her mismatched eyes were determined. Slowly, the ever-expanding tangle began to recede. The green crystals withered, and the glow dimmed. Lahara grunted, gathering the energies, then tore her hand away. The rift shattered, and the air fell still once more.

Lahara let out a breath, shaking her left hand. She glanced to Yara, and gave a satisfied nod.

“Nice one.” She slung her staff across her back, then flexed her fingers. “So, bet that surprised you, huh?”

Yara’s brows narrowed.

“Was this your doing?” she asked, her tone low.

“Andraste’s grace, I wish!” Lahara scoffed. “I can’t even open a jar of honey, let alone a Fade rift.” She raised her left hand. “ _Closing_ them, however, has become something of a speciality of mine.” Her cheeks flushed, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “Apart from the big one right above our heads, of course. But these little ones can come from no-where. It was lucky I sensed it in time, otherwise it could’ve gotten…messy.”

Yara closed her eyes, recalling the demon’s taunts. It had spoken aloud all the thoughts that haunted, and even now her chest felt cold. If the Herald hadn’t intervened…

“But you still came through when it mattered,” Lahara went on. “Seems there’s some fight in you yet.”

Yara hung her head.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Channelling fear to anger had helped, but it had been so short-lived.

“Pfft, don’t give me that!” Lahara scoffed. She strode over, and clasped Yara’s shoulder. “You might’ve thought you were ready to keel over, but you didn’t let that demon have the last word. You still wanted to live.” She paused. “And everyone knows the sound of true despair is _silence_.”

Yara’s eyes widened.

“When all hope is lost, and there is no will to fight anymore,” she murmured, reciting the rest of the quotation. It had been the defiant words of a Warden-Commander, not long before her sacrifice that ended the Fourth Blight. Words Bethany had often repeated during their long exile; words that had offered comfort when they had been so far from friendly faces.

“Ah, thought you might recognise that one,” Lahara smirked. “Your mage friend is rather fond of it.” Her smile faltered, and her tone grew serious. “She misses you a lot, you know. She’s been praying every day, and Maker knows she’s been reading every book we have, trying to find something to help you.”

Yara clenched her teeth. “I never asked…”

“Do you honestly believe she wants your permission?” Lahara said, cutting her off. “Look, I sort of know where you’re coming from, but I think you’ve had enough space to mull things over. You can’t sit here forever. Plus you were able to defeat the Despair demon, after all. That’s got to mean something, right?”

“Why do you care?” Yara muttered, folding her arms around herself.

Lahara’s eyes flared. She grabbed Yara’s collar and dragged her forward.

“Because I didn’t ask for _this_ , either!” She shoved her left hand under Yara’s nose, revealing the strange mark that had sealed the rift. “And just like you, I don’t remember how I got it, or why.” Her words struck, and Yara gasped. “So stop pretending you’re the only one with the world on their shoulders. You’re not that privileged.”

She released Yara, who held her hand to her mouth.

“I…” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise…”

“Well, count yourself informed.” Lahara let her hand drop, then gestured to the corridor. “Now, kindly stop wallowing in enough self-pity to drown every halla in a fifty mile radius and get out of here. Maker knows you must be tired of the décor, and the catering’s not great, either.”

The Herald pushed Yara before she had a chance to answer. Yara staggered, almost falling, but quickly regained her footing. The next step was easier, and soon she was keeping pace with Lahara. The dingy cell fell behind, and Yara sighed. As they ascended the stairs, the fresh air hit her, and she clenched her fist.

Like it or not, it was time to face the world again.


	8. Chapter 8

Night had fallen, but Haven was far from quiet. Campfires crackled, breezes whispered, people chattered, and guards patrolled the snowy paths. Yara let out a misted breath, the dusted pines and clustered cabins refreshing to her eyes. It was just like when she’d first emerged from Viren’s home after her accident, although this time darkness was only ever a hair’s breadth away.

She clenched her teeth, gazing skywards before her thoughts would take hold. The Breach hung impossibly high, bathing the landscape in its emerald light. It was enough to blot out the stars, leaving only the lonely moon behind the mountains. A perfect mirror of how she still felt inside.

“Herald, what happened?”

Cassandra’s voice broke the spell, and Yara and Lahara glanced back. The Seeker strode out of the Chantry hall, her brow narrowed. “Was it as you feared?”

“Yeah, a rift opened in the dungeon,” Lahara answered. She clasped Yara’s shoulder. “But I sealed it, with Yara’s help. You don’t need to worry about it swallowing up headquarters.”

Cassandra’s expression softened.

“That is a relief,” she said. “And I am glad you are both unhurt.” Her frown returned, and she held a hand to her chin. “But it troubles me a rift would open so close to our base of operations. Solas will need to look into this.”

“Good plan,” Lahara said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Maker knows he’s more experienced with this than I am.”

Cassandra nodded. Her eyes fell to Yara.

“So, what will we do with you now?” she asked. “Leliana has dropped her charges, but she insists you are the Hero of Ferelden. Without definitive proof, however…”

“Are we _still_ going on about that?” Lahara held a hand to her forehead. “Listen, I don’t care if she was the bloody Empress of Orlais. All I know is that Yara can fight, and the Inquisition could use someone with her skills.”

Yara stiffened. While it was a relief to be acquitted, the last thing she wanted was to remain here. Just the thought of staying so close to the Left Hand…

Lahara noticed her posture, and raised a brow.

“Whoa, relax, it’s not like I’m conscripting you or anything,” she said, holding up her hands. “But right now we’ve more enemies than allies, and we could use all the help we can get.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra added. “We need to close the Breach as soon as possible. The Grey Wardens also lost as many as we did, so it should be of your concern, regardless of your neutrality. Your comrade Nathaniel has already offered to help.” She hesitated, licking her lips. “Further, if you truly _are_ Ferelden’s champion…”

“Yara!”

Bethany’s voice broke through, interrupting the Seeker. Yara turned, only to be tackled in a fierce embrace. She stumbled, and the mage buried her face in Yara’s shoulder.

“By the Maker, you’re finally back!” she murmured.

Her breath was warm against her neck, and Yara froze. For a moment Bethany’s black locks turned red, her caramel gaze replaced by a grey-blue stare.

_Her cheeks are so pale, flush with tears._

_“I have never been so afraid in all my life,” she whispers. “I…I would have never forgiven myself if you…”_

_“Leliana…”_

A gasp escaped Yara, and she pushed Bethany away. The mage’s eyes widened, and she held her hand to her chest. Yara ignored her, a horrible taste filling her mouth. She scowled, her stare locked on the snow. Even a simple touch of affection had become too much.

Further steps approached at a more controlled pace. Yara looked up, meeting Nathaniel’s gaze. He flashed a relieved smile.

“It’s good to see you with us again, Yara,” he said, although he made sure to keep a little distance. “Feeling better, I hope?”

Yara managed a nod. Bethany stared, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. Yara swallowed, afraid to trust her voice. What was wrong with her? She had put her two friends through such hell, and all she had to offer was a cold shoulder.

The Left Hand had truly taken everything from her.

Lahara frowned, stepping to Bethany’s side.

“Well, I’m sure Yara’s still a bit overwhelmed,” the Herald said, brushing Bethany’s hand in reassurance. “Might be an idea to call it quits for tonight.”

“Alas, we still have to work to do,” Cassandra said, “especially when a rift could open beneath us at any moment. I will wake Solas. Find Cullen, and you and Nathaniel can meet me in the war room to discuss this further.”

Lahara’s shoulders slumped, and she rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, Seeker.”

Cassandra bowed, then headed off towards the cabins on the east side. Lahara pulled a face after her, before turning back to Nathaniel.

“Well, no rest for the wicked,” she declared, giving a stretch. “Come on Nathaniel, we’d better wake the Commander from his beauty sleep.” She patted Bethany’s shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Bethany, Yara. Look after yourselves. And do consider the Inquisition’s offer.”

“Likewise,” Nathaniel said, glancing sadly at the pair. “I’ll keep you both posted.”

They departed for the training grounds, and an awkward silence descended. Yara let out a breath, conscious of her rumbling heartbeat. The biting wind teased her hair, raw against her cheeks, and she wished it would numb everything else.

Finally Bethany broke the quiet.

“Will you at least talk to me?” she whispered.

Slowly, Yara turned to her, only now able to take in her appearance. Dark circles hung beneath the mage’s eyes, and her face was ashen. Her hair was longer, more unruly, her slender frame thinner than Yara remembered. Her forearm was still bandaged, and her eyes had lost their brightness, too. The sight filled Yara with guilt, and she grimaced. How little it took to set her heart crumbling, even now.

“What do you want me to say?” she murmured.

Bethany scowled. She reached out, her hand inches from Yara’s, but at the last second thought better of it.

“Do you even care how I’ve been while you were in there?” Her tone was icy. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t reach you. You were wasting away both inside and out, and there was nothing I could do.” She shivered, and not just for the cold. “I was scared you’d disappear before my eyes. After everything we’ve faced together, and you almost…” She trailed off, drawing her arms around herself. “Now all you can do is stand here…you won’t even let me touch you…” A tear escaped, and she bit her lip. “I thought you trusted me?”

Tightness rose in Yara’s chest, and she dug her nails into her palms.

“It was never a question of trust,” she muttered. “But some things you just can’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Overcome, Bethany grasped Yara’s palm. Yara flinched, but the mage would not release her. “Nothing I did or said got through to you, yet after a few words with the Herald you’re suddenly able to speak, to walk…” She brought Yara’s hand to her chest. “I followed you to the ends of Thedas, I always tried to be there for you, and I still want to. So why won’t you let me anymore?”

Yara snapped her eyes shut, the truth a whisper in her thoughts.

_Because you remind me of her._

“You can’t help,” Yara answered, prizing her hand free. “Not this time.”

“Yara, please!”

Bethany grasped Yara’s shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes. Tears glistened on the mage’s cheeks.

“Don’t do this,” Bethany whispered. “You mean so much to me, I…I can’t let you…I just want…” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to hurt like this anymore.”

Yara clenched her jaw. Every word eroded at what little she had left, and she could bear it no more. It was her own fault. She had given too much of herself to Bethany, had been too open, too caring, and that was why her feelings were so tangled. She had let their tie of friendship bind too deep, and now the strings were poisoned, strangling her. Memories of a past filled with warmth battled against the cold reality of the present, and they could not be reconciled.

Her heart had bled _enough_.

“You don’t think I’m tired of this as well?” Yara shoved Bethany back, her teeth bared. “That waking or sleeping my nightmares never end, that I can’t remember _anything_ while my feelings rip me apart from the inside!”

Bethany blinked. Her brows narrowed.

“You think I don’t realise that?” she shot back, finding her voice. “How is this any different to what we’ve been through for the last four years?”

“You just don’t get it!” Yara clutched her chest. “The Left Hand made me relive _every_ damned moment from my life before, and none of it means anything!” Her arms shook. “All I have are broken memories, and they taint _everything_ …”

_Even you…_

“Then let me _help_!” Bethany cried. “You don’t have to suffer like this!”

Yara’s eyes flared. She grabbed Bethany by the collar. The mage gasped, and her face paled.

“You will _never_ understand what she’s done to me,” Yara hissed. _What she’s done to you._ “I can’t let…I _won’t_ let the past control me like this.” She released Bethany, and the mage stumbled, catching her breath. “If you really want to help, then leave me alone. You only make it _worse_.”

She turned away and stormed off. Bethany cried out her name, and Yara clenched her fists. Saltiness soured her own lip, but she didn’t look back. It should not have come to this, yet it was the only way she could protect herself. To be near the mage had become no different to being near the Left Hand, and it choked her. Both stirred the same feelings, triggered the same pain, and if she didn’t cut the strings they would shred the rest of her to pieces. The only way she could be free was to silence it all, to steel her heart and let nothing inside.

The darkness could not haunt if there was no light to fight against.

* * *

An eerie dawn greeted Yara as she sat outside her tent in the training grounds. Sleep had been fitful and unrefreshing, so she had taken to watching the sunrise. The usual pinks and oranges were distorted by the glow of the Breach, the ugly green blemishing the clouds. It set the frozen lake sparkling, and Yara traced the perfectly blended colours, sighing. Once such a sight would have brought a smile to her lips, yet now it scarcely scratched the surface.

Her brows narrowed, and she took a deep breath, the freezing wind numbing her throat. She would not be so weak. Let the air chill her heart, so she would never have to give in to her feelings again…

Shuffling from the other tents caught her ear, and she looked back at the camp. The soldiers were starting to emerge, ready to commence the day’s duties. Yara watched them file towards the village gate, when abruptly a woman burst through from the other side. Yara soon recognised the Herald’s auburn locks, and she was marching straight towards her.

Lahara strode through the soldiers, all but pushing them aside. She weaved through the tents, finally halting beside Yara. Her expression was anything but friendly.

“I wondered where you’d skulked off to.” Her tone held a fierce edge that hadn’t been there the night before. “What do you have to say for yourself, Yara?”

Yara frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Lahara scoffed. “Bethany’s been in a complete state since last night, and reliable sources tell me you were responsible.” She shook her head. “How can you treat her like that after everything you’ve already put her through?”

Yara’s eyes widened. She quickly let her mask snap back, scowling.

“That is none of your business,” she said. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“I think you’ll find it does,” Lahara retorted.

“Why? She’s not…”

“My friend?” Lahara finished for her. She let out a snort. “Maker, are you really that pretentious? Someone had to keep an eye on her while you were all cosy in the dungeon, and it sure as hell wasn’t just Nathaniel.” She sighed. “What is wrong with you, anyway? I’d hoped you were finally starting to see sense again, and then you go and…”

“If you’ve only come here to lecture me, then leave,” Yara snarled, cutting her off. She did not have to listen to this.

“You didn’t need to make her _cry_ , Yara.” Lahara’s voice was cold. “Whatever the heck is going on in that twisted head of yours, Bethany shouldn’t have been on the receiving end.” She let out a breath, her tone becoming wistful. “If I had someone who gave less than half of what she’s given you…”

Her words struck deep, and Yara bit her lip. The ache in her chest threatened to burst again, and she struggled to keep it at bay. How could the Herald understand it was precisely _because_ of Bethany’s concern that she’d had to distance herself?

It was the only way she could survive…

“She didn’t have to waste herself on me,” Yara murmured. “And neither do you.”

Lahara groaned, holding a hand to her temple.

“Maker, I’d make more progress talking to a brick wall,” she grumbled. “Well, since you’re in such a listening mood, we’ll leave it at that for now. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.”

“Then we’re done.”

Yara stood up, meaning to walk away, but Lahara blocked her path.

“Now wait a second, that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’ve heard enough, Lahara…”

“You’re not getting out that easy.” Lahara gripped Yara’s arms, forcing her to sit again. Yara growled, but didn’t resist further. If she didn’t listen now, the Herald would only try to corner her later.

“What, then?”

“Nathaniel mentioned something in our meeting that caught our interest,” Lahara said. “The Orelsian Wardens had been acting strangely before the explosion, and this corrosive mist that the two of you came across might’ve been linked to it.”

Yara huffed. “And?”

“It seems worth investigating,” Lahara went on. “It might help us find a way to close the Breach. So I’m asking for your help.”

“Hmph, if you’re still trying to goad me into joining the Inquisition…”

“Actually, I’m starting to reconsider whether you’d be a good fit,” Lahara muttered. “Look, sit here and sulk if that makes you feel better, but that giant hole in the sky affects you as much as everyone else.” She let out a breath. “And you _owe_ me, Yara. That Fade rift would’ve killed you if I hadn’t been there. So think of this as repayment. Help my scouts, and once I have your report you’ll be free to go. Mage’s honour.”

Yara bit back a wince. As much as she was still loathe to help the Inquisition, she could not deny that Lahara had saved her life. The Herald had also helped bring her back from the brink, and such a debt was not something she could cast aside.

Even she wasn’t that selfish.

“Fine,” Yara grumbled. “I’ll go with your scouts. But after that, we’re even.”

Lahara let out a relieved sigh.

“I’m glad we have an understanding.” She nodded to the village gate. “I’ll let the others know, then you can be on your merry way. They’ll meet you here.” Her mismatched eyes narrowed. “And you’d better not hurt Bethany like that again, Yara. Or it’ll be more than words you’ll have to deal with.”

She turned and walked back to the village. Yara watched her retreat, scoffing at her threat. How had the Herald become so protective of Bethany, anyway? They had scarcely known each other a few days…

Sighing, Yara licked her lips, clenching her fingers above her breastbone. It was of no care to her; not any more. If this was how it had to be, then so be it.

Perhaps then the ache beneath her ribs would be satisfied.


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t believe it. Grim?”

Yara blinked, the familiar voice startling her. She hadn’t heard that nickname in a long while. She paused her pacing, glancing around Haven’s main gate. For a moment she couldn’t see anyone, and her brow creased. Then something jabbed her leg, and she looked downward. A red-coated dwarf smiled at her, a crossbow slung across his back. Her eyes widened.

“Varric?”

“Aw, I’m flattered you remember my name,” Varric chuckled, extending his hand. Yara slowly took it. “Been awhile, hasn’t it? It’s good to see you again.”

“Ditto,” Yara murmured, caught off-guard by his appearance. Memories of their last encounter began to surface, but she swiftly swallowed them back. She did not want to be reminded of how this mess had started.

“I’ll bet your wondering how I ended up so far from home,” Varric went on, oblivious to her discomfort. “Let’s just say a certain Seeker paid Kirkwall a visit, and brought me along for a ride even she wasn’t expecting.” He rubbed his nose. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised to find you, considering Bull’s Eye and Sunshine are around. You guys have a knack for showing up when trouble rears its ugly head.”

Yara stiffened.

“It’s not like I do it on purpose,” she muttered.

“Heh, I see that sense of humour of yours hasn’t changed,” Varric said. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it? All we need is Hawke and an insane Knight-Commander and we’d have the full set.”

Yara sighed, pressing her hand to her chest. If only she could go back to those days, when everything was simpler. When she could still look at Bethany and not see the ghost of the Left Hand instead.

Her eyes drifted back to the village, seeking the familiar dark-haired mage. It was a habit she’d never noticed before; a reflex from the years they’d lived as fugitives. That all-too familiar tightness returned, and she bit her lip, looking away. It was a painful lesson, but one that needed to be learned.

“Anyway, Bull’s Eye tells us he might have a lead on what tore this giant hole in the sky,” Varric said. “Were the Orlesian Wardens not quite right in the head?”

“Something like that,” Yara answered.

“Well, it’s a good a clue to follow as any,” Varric admitted. “Beats having your ear talked off by the Chantry, anyway. The Herald’s definitely got her work cut out for her.”

Yara raised a brow. “Lahara’s not coming?”

“Sadly, the Seeker’s dragged her off elsewhere,” Varric answered. “So she put me and Chuckles on the case, along with Bull’s Eye and yourself.” He paused, adjusting his coat sleeves. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. I mean the Deep Roads are like a second home to you, right?”

“Right.” Yara shifted on her feet, wishing the dwarf would stop pushing for conversation. It seemed he was unaware of her four year absence from the Wardens, and the recollections were making her uncomfortable.

Her prayer was thankfully granted, as a bald elf soon came to join them. He carried an oak staff, and wore a green and grey coat. Another mage.

“Right on time, Chuckles,” Varric greeted. “Is Bull’s Eye on his way?”

“Nathaniel was gathering some supplies, he should not be long.” the elf said. He turned to Yara, bowing. “Ah, you must be Yara. My name is Solas, and I will also be accompanying you.”

“A pleasure,” Yara said, though her heart wasn’t really in the greeting. She was getting tired of all the small talk. The sooner they could move out, the better.

The snowy breeze picked up, and at last Nathaniel appeared from the Chantry. He sauntered down the main path, carrying his bow and pack. He also carried a familiar scabbard across his shoulder, and Yara licked her lips. It was her sword.

He stopped beside the group, nodding at Solas and Varric.

“Sorry I’m late.” His eyes fell to Yara, and she bit back a shiver. If Lahara had had some choice words, Nathaniel was sure to have an entire arsenal waiting.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Varric commented, seemingly ignorant of their exchange. “So, where are we headed?”

Nathaniel turned to him, meaning to reply, when a cry echoed from the village.

“Nathaniel, wait!”

Yara glanced back, and her breath caught in her throat. Bethany was hurrying down the main path, fully kitted out. She stormed through the snow, almost skidding, then burst through the gates. She halted beside Solas, breathless. Yara clenched her fists, unconsciously stepping back.

“Bethany, what are you doing here?” Nathaniel frowned. “I thought I told you…”

“You’re not…leaving me behind…again…” Bethany puffed, wiping her brow. She made no effort to acknowledge Yara, who was more than content to avert her gaze.

“But it’s too dangerous,” Nathaniel argued. “Lahara said the same thing, we can’t all go. If we meet the same fate as the Orlesian Wardens…”

“That’s not going to happen,” Bethany answered, her brows narrowed. “I don’t care what you say, Nathaniel. I won’t stand another minute here. I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but Bethany met his stare, her jaw set. Yara folded her arms, swallowing the pang in her throat. She knew the real reason Nathaniel was reluctant, and she herself didn’t want the mage to tag along. She would be distracted enough without her presence bearing down.

“I wouldn’t argue with her,” Varric advised. “If there’s one thing I know, when a Hawke makes up their mind, no power on Thedas can shake it.”

“Tell me about it,” Nathaniel muttered. He gave a defeated shrug. “Alright, you can come. But if Lahara complains, it’s on your head.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, producing a map. The others gathered around, although Yara made sure to keep at arm’s length from the mage. If Bethany noticed, she didn’t show it.

“Leliana’s scouts have mapped out most of the cavern networks around Haven,” Nathaniel explained. He pointed to an area a few miles west of the village. “This was where Yara and I first came across the mist, but we can’t reach it that way.” He then traced a path that led north of Haven. “There is another route here, though, which should bring us to the same place.”

“And that leads to the Deep Roads’ passage?” Varric asked.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “But it’s not easy to find. It might take a day or two just to get there.”

“Sounds familiar,” Bethany murmured. Yara let out a breath, pretending not to have heard.

“We won’t have a repeat of our messy expedition, Sunshine,” Varric vowed. “I’ll make sure of it. The darkspawn will have to prize Bianca out of my cold, dead hands before I’ll let them near you.”

“That’s another thing,” Nathaniel added. “The mist blocks our ability to sense darkspawn, so you’ll need to be extra vigilant. You can’t rely on us to warn you.”

“You know, you’re really not selling this very well, Bull’s Eye,” Varric grumbled.

“I am surprised to hear such reluctance to return to the Stone coming from a dwarf,” Solas commented. “It is your true home, after all.”

“Well Chuckles, when you’ve had the experiences I’ve had, you don’t think too fondly of the place,” Varric answered. “And _Kirkwall_ is my true home. Don’t forget that.”

Solas huffed, but said nothing more.

“Alright, any more questions?” Nathaniel asked. Varric and Solas shook their heads. “Then let’s be off. We need to make good headway before dark.”

“Sounds good,” Varric said. He led the way towards the bridge that would take them back into the Frostbacks. Solas followed along with Bethany, leaving Nathaniel and Yara at the gate. A tense quiet fell over them, until Nathaniel offered up the sword. Yara clasped her fingers around the sheath, but the archer didn’t let go. His eyes flared.

“You should count yourself lucky I’m even speaking to you,” he growled. “If it were up to me I’d throw you straight back into that dungeon, but Lahara insisted you had to come along. I’d hoped to spare Bethany, but…” He shook his head. “Don’t make things worse.”

Yara’s brows narrowed. She yanked the scabbard from Nathaniel’s hand, and he winced.

“Then don’t get in my way,” she said tersely. If this was another tie that had to be severed, then so be it.

Nathaniel bristled, but he bit back his retort. Hunching into his coat, he strode off towards the others. Yara watched him go, her hand trembling. She took a deep breath, stilling herself, before she strapped her sword onto her back and trailed after their footprints.

The Maker was certainly in a testing mood today.

* * *

 

The north side caverns were almost identical to their western counterparts; dark, cramped, and rank with the scent of old blood. The stale air filled Yara’s lungs, and she coughed, the dust tickling her throat. The tunnels had multiple branches, but Nathaniel strode confidently, keeping his map in hand. He crunched through the darkness, Varric alongside, while Bethany and Solas provided light. Yara remained at the rear, keeping a slight distance.

The blueish Veilfire danced off the rocks, and Yara sighed. The crackle of gravel beneath their feet filled her ears, and she licked her lips. While it was a relief the journey had been quiet, the underlying tension was like a suffocating blanket. Her thoughts were restless, and the hollowness in her chest had not left her alone. Every so often she also caught Bethany stealing glances, and it was all she could do to avoid her gaze.

Why had the mage insisted to come with them?

“Maker above, what is that _smell_?” Varric groaned, holding his nose as they stepped into a chamber. “It’s like a drake gorged itself on a huge pile of rotting meat, and then…”

“Please do not finish that sentence,” Solas said. He raised his staff, casting Veilfire to the far corners, but apart from the puddles of blood, there was nothing else. “Strange. One would expect a strong presence of death, yet I sense very little disturbance.”

“Me neither,” Bethany admitted.

“Eh, I sense plenty enough for all of us,” Varric answered.

“Be on your guard,” Nathaniel ordered. He pocketed the map, and took up his bow. Varric followed suit, checking Bianca was primed, and Yara drew her sword. At least it gave her something else to concentrate on.

The group continued, crossing the chamber and entering another tunnel. The walls narrowed, and Yara shivered, sweat pooling at her brow. The enclosed darkness had never been welcome, but now it set her heart trembling even more. It was just like back in the cell. A flashback prickled at the edge of her thoughts, and she dug her nails into her palms. Just breathe…

Abruptly Bethany halted, and Yara walked right into her. Immediately she shrank back, and the mage turned around. Their gaze finally met, but Yara forced her eyes down, her breaths quickening. To acknowledge Bethany would be suicide. She gripped her sword, but her hand shook, and it was suddenly hot, too hot. Her pulse thrummed, and her knees started to buckle.

Before total panic took over, she heard Bethany sigh. Her steps shifted, growing quieter as she made to catch up to the others. Yara remained in the silent darkness, eyes closed, trying to pull herself together.

 _Don’t be so weak_.

Swallowing, Yara picked up her steps again, following the distant trail of Veilfire. This time she made sure to leave a wider gap behind Bethany. Part of her wondered whether the mage had done it on purpose, but regardless she would not be fooled again.

Eventually the passage opened into another chamber, lined with stalagmites. A lyrium vein was also splayed on the ceiling, twinkling like a miniature nightscape. It made it bright enough to see by, so Solas and Bethany extinguished their lights. Nathaniel stepped to the middle of the chamber, scouting the walls.

“Hmm, there’s no other exit here.” He made to reach for the map again, when Varric called out.

“Not so fast, Bull’s Eye.” He was standing behind a rock pillar, pointing to the ground. Yara weaved through the maze of stone to join him. As she stepped free, her eyes fell to the vertical shaft at the dwarf’s feet. It was only a few feet wide, and descended into blackness. A rope ladder had been nailed to its edge, looking like it would give way at any moment.

“That looks new,” Bethany remarked. “Someone must have been here recently.”

“It also does not appear very sturdy,” Solas added. “We will have to descend one at a time.”

“So, who wants to go first?” Varric quipped.

“I’ll go,” Nathaniel said. “If it can take my weight, it will certainly take everyone else’s. I will shout when I reach the bottom.”

Shouldering his bow, he tested the first rung. The wood creaked, but didn’t collapse. He placed his foot on the second, and soon fell into a steady descent. An age seemed to pass, but eventually he called up. Solas went next, followed by Varric. Bethany sighed, stepping forward. Yara felt her gaze once more, but remained still. The mage didn’t hesitate for long, and Yara listened to the groaning rope as she climbed down.

Finally it was her turn, and she sheathed her sword. She put a foot on the first plank, then her other on the second. She gripped the rope edges, and started to make her way downwards. At first she made good progress, but then the shaft narrowed even more. Her back touched the edge of the wall, and a shiver ran down her spine. Hands shaking, Yara tried to take another step, but her chest tightened. The shadows encroached, and she couldn’t get the air inside.

 _Darkness…pain…can’t breathe…Maker it_ hurts _…please…take it away, take it away!_

Fighting for breath, Yara clung to the ladder. Her muscles trembled, her vision blackening. She had to get out, out!

She reached for the rung above, but her fingers were too slick with sweat. She lost her grip, and slipped from the ladder. Her hands scrambled for purchase, but she pulled too hard and the rope snapped. Screaming, Yara fell. Her forehead cracked against a plank, and then she hit the ground, hard. Agony raced up her left leg, and she cried out, holding her hands over her face.

“Yara!”

Bethany was there in an instant. Yara tried to move, but her leg protested, and she hissed. Her left boot was pooling with blood, and it was almost impossible to move her foot. Maker, she couldn’t have broken it…

“Maker’s breath, what happened?” Nathaniel blurted.

“Grim, are you okay?” Varric asked.

Yara could only cringe, pressing her palm to her bloodied forehead. What…why…

“Hold still.” Bethany spread her hands over Yara’s leg. Yara dug her fingers into the ground, and not just because it hurt. Her shoulders trembled, so she held her arms rigid. She couldn’t handle being this close to the mage. The soothing blue light entered the broken skin, and Yara clenched her teeth. She focused all her attention on the pain, every sharp stab grounding her in the present. She would not let the darkness win again.

Slowly, the cut started to heal, and the bleeding lessened. Yara held her breath, struggling to control her shaking. However, before the wound fully closed, the cleansing light vanished. At once Yara shuffled away, her head bowed. It was enough.

Bethany let out a hurtful sigh. Despite herself, she reached out again. Yara tensed, but no more magic came forth. Why was the mage toying with her?

“What’s going on?” Bethany murmured, staring at her hands.

“Do you need a lyrium potion?” Solas offered.

“No time for that, Chuckles!” Varric raised Bianca, stepping in front of Bethany. “We have company!”

A howling shriek tore through the passage, and the shadows lurched. Solas reignited his staff, revealing the darkspawn making straight for them. Nathaniel nocked an arrow, as Varric launched several bolts. The first genlock slowed its charge, and Nathaniel shot an arrow through its head. It fell to the floor, but five others were right behind, snarling.

Adrenaline kicked in, and Yara shot to her feet. Her leg sang with pain, but she cast it aside, drawing her sword. A genlock roared, swinging its dagger at her. She caught the blow, then spun around, sending the creature to the floor. Bethany yelled, aiming a lance of fire, but nothing came from her staff. Her face paled, and she yelped, the darkspawn tackling her to the ground. Yara sprang, her dagger slicing the back of its neck. It groaned, turning to face her, but Yara had already driven her other blade into its chest.

She tossed its body aside before it would crush Bethany. The mage sat up, holding her shoulder, and at the same time Solas’s light began to flicker. He tried to cast another spell, but his staff only managed to sputter.

“This is not good,” he said. “Finish them quickly!”

Yara growled, making for the last darkspawn. The Shriek screamed, dodging her strike, then threw itself at her. It pinned her down, raking its claws across her ribs. The pincers became entangled in her chest-plate, and Yara writhed, trying to break free.

“Get off her!” Varric bellowed, firing another volley. The bolts struck the Shriek in the back, and it arched its spine. The release in pressure was just enough, and Yara plunged her dagger into its belly. It howled, claws flailing, and caught Yara across the cheek. Warmth trickled down her face, and then the weight on her torso vanished. The creature got caught in the rocks, and Nathaniel slammed his dagger into its throat.

Yara fell back to the ground, breathing hard. A metallic taste soured her lip, and her ribs and leg were throbbing. She brushed her face, sticky with blood.

“Yara, are you alright?” Nathaniel hurried to her side. Yara managed a nod, sitting up. Nathaniel brought out a bandage from his pack, and pressed it to her cheek. Wincing, Yara looked to the others. Bethany’s sleeve was ripped, and there were blood splatters on her coat, but she appeared otherwise unhurt. Solas also bore several cuts and grazes, and he was staring at his staff. The Veilfire had dimmed considerably.

“This is very disturbing,” he said, his brow creased. “Something is draining our magic away. I can barely sense the Fade at all now.”

“So I noticed,” Varric said, who remained virtually untouched. “And none of you guys sensed that darkspawn ambush, either?”

“No,” Bethany answered, her voice quiet. She clasped her hands together, her expression troubled.

“Then we must be close,” Nathaniel declared.

 “I am unsure if it is wise to continue,” Solas said. “If this force can block magic to this extent…”

“But we can’t turn back now,” Bethany argued.

“And what of Yara?” Solas asked. “She is already wounded, and should we encounter further creatures you will not be able to heal her.” He let out a breath. “Regardless of your theory about the Orlesian Wardens, this avenue is not worth pursuing.”

Bethany bit her lip. She made to answer, but Yara chose that moment to stand again. She withdrew from Nathaniel and pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the stinging in her leg.

“Grim, don’t force yourself,” Varric said.

“Keep going,” Yara stated, squaring her jaw. “I can look after myself.”

Bethany’s brows narrowed. Her fists clenched, and she turned her back to Yara. The ache in Yara’s chest redoubled, but she wrestled back her guilt. She could not keep unravelling every time she set eyes on the mage. And since it was impossible to avoid her, the only other option was to make their rift widen. No matter how much it tore her inside.

“Then we’re decided,” Nathaniel said. He handed the remaining bandage back to Yara. “Come on.”

He reached into his pack, pulling out a stake and flint-striker, and soon they had light again. Yara sighed, tying a strip of bandage around the cut on her forehead. Abandoning the darkspawn corpses, they continued along the passage. It curved sharply, and then the walls became smooth, held upright by square pillars and arches.

“This is the Deep Roads, alright,” Varric said. He kept his finger on Bianca’s trigger. “But something feels a little off.”

The corridor stretched on, bleak and lifeless, then finally opened into another chamber. The ceiling was much higher, and the walls were lined with torches and ancient dwarven statues. The ground was also littered with crumbled battering rams and rusted traps, so the group stepped carefully. A further passage branched to the right, but its floor tiles had collapsed, leaving no way to reach it. However, just beyond the gap hovered a strange black haze, fogging the rest of the path. Yara swallowed, recognising the heaviness in the air.

“Whoa, is that the stuff you were talking about, Bull’s Eye?” Varric asked.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said.

“I have never seen such a thing,” Solas admitted. He stepped closer, a hand at his chin. “It has so little substance, and yet…”

“Let me show you.” Nathaniel bent down, picking a large splinter from one of the ramming posts. He tossed it over the abyss, and it landed within the mist. For a moment nothing happened, and then the wood began to corrode. The solid oak turned liquid, and then it evaporated.

“Jeez, that’s stronger than the rum they serve at _The Hanged Man_!” Varric quipped. “But where is it coming from?”

Bethany frowned, striding towards the broken path. She peered over the edge of the pit, brow raised. Her boot caught the edge tile, and it crumbled into the chasm. The mist shimmered, and a low rumbling began. The floor started to tremble, and then a surge of black fog erupted upwards. Bethany gasped, jumping back. The smog billowed upwards, and the chamber shook, dust spilling from the walls.

“Retreat!” Nathaniel cried. He bolted back to the passage, Varric and Solas in tow, as the ceiling groaned. Bethany stumbled to her feet, when a giant crack spread across the floor. She yelped, and Yara’s eyes widened.

Without thinking she ran. She wrapped her arms around the mage, then leapt aside, just as the ground gave way. They hit the far tiles, and Yara gasped, the breath knocked from her lungs. The ceiling groaned, and a flood of rocks cascaded down. She crouched over Bethany, the stones showering across her back. Her leg burned, but she bit back the pain, holding position.

At last the quaking ceased, and they were left in stillness again. Yara opened her eyes, Bethany’s breath warm against her scathed cheek. Before their stares would meet, she sat back, the loose rocks falling from her shoulders. An awkward silence followed, until Bethany sighed and pushed herself upright. Yara coughed, shaking dust from her hair. Heart racing, she glanced to the rear passage. It was now completely blocked with rubble.

Bethany swore. She stood, brushing stones from her shoulders, then walked over to the debris. She drew her staff, but still no flames came forth.

“Damn it!” She kicked the ground, scowling.

“Yara, Bethany!” Nathaniel’s muffled voice came through. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Bethany replied, “but we’re stuck. I can’t get through this without my magic.”

“Then wait for us to get help,” Nathaniel said. “Maker, I’m so sorry…”

“Wait.” Bethany had caught another opening at the opposite corner. “There’s another passage this side. We can find another way out.”

“But you’re defenceless on your own!” Nathaniel snapped. “And if you’re exposed to that mist much longer…”

“We’ll have to manage,” Bethany answered. “Go on without us, we’ll catch up.”

She walked away, ignoring the archer’s protests. Yara shuddered, the tension mounting in her chest. She pressed her fist to her breastbone, her stomach churning. She would not bear this!

Bethany stopped in front of her. Yara kept her stare on the mage’s boots.

“I know you’re listening, Yara,” Bethany said, not hiding the hurt from her tone. “Keep your silence if you must, but if we stand a chance at getting out…” Her voice quivered. “You’ll…You’ll have to learn to trust me again.”

Yara could only nod in answer. It would be torture, but she would have to endure.

She rose to her feet, sparing a final glance to the mist. It had swallowed up the entire path that side, and had started to eat away at the chamber floor. Sighing, she turned away, following Bethany’s steps towards the other passage. It was half-hidden behind a crumbling dwarf statue; why they had not seen it in the first place. Yara found herself limping slightly, so she took to using her sword as a walking stick. She prayed they would find a way to the surface before more darkspawn—or worse, her flashbacks—re-appeared.

Bethany stole a torch from the wall, then strode ahead. The new corridor slanted upwards, which was a reassuring sign. Yara kept her weapons draw, alert for any movement. She drank in every detail; the crackle of the floor tiles, the twinges of pain in her calf, the choking scent of dust and metal, the weight of her blades in her hand. So long as nothing broke her concentration, she could walk this tightrope.

They passed a hole in the passage, before coming to a large set of doors. Bethany tried to push them open, but they had been sealed tight. Sighing, they retraced her steps, returning to the broken wall.  The stone had been torn open, and the floor was badly scarred, as if something with enormous claws had scraped across it.

Without a word Yara went first, stepping between the rubble. Her eyes scanned the darkness, catching a few darkspawn corpses hiding in the mess, but not much else. Bethany joined her, and they set off again, side by side. Yara couldn’t help but watch from the corner of her eye. Although the mage was holding a brave face, her brown eyes revealed her true feelings. This cut into her as much as it did Yara.

Yara felt her eyes mist, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, forcing her gaze forward. No, don’t _feel_ …

Bethany froze, suddenly staring straight ahead. Yara blinked, following her gaze, but she couldn’t see anything. A question hovered at her lips, when a new voice rang out.

“Ah, it’s about time I found you again!”

The rich Antivan accent echoed through the passage, and Yara’s breath caught. Her eyes darted amongst the pillars, and then she saw _him_ emerge. His blonde hair had started to sport streaks of silver, but his olive skin, silver earrings and tattooed markings marked him the same as ever.

“What? Who are you?” Bethany asked, wary. “How did you…”

“Do not look so alarmed, my lady,” the elf said, bowing. “I am not a darkspawn, no? Much more handsome, I’m sure you’ll agree, and a lot better for polite conversation.”

Bethany stared. Yara’s eyes narrowed.

“Anyway, where are my manners?” the elf went on, turning to Yara. “How have you been, my dear? If I must be honest, you look a trifle piqued.”

Yara snarled, raising her sword.

“Get lost,” she hissed. “Before I make you.”

“My, aren’t we feisty today?” the elf said. “That is no way to greet your old friend, you know. Especially when you have made such efforts to avoid me, it seems.” He chuckled to himself. “Could it be you have had a change of heart?”

“I said _get lost_!” Yara made to swing her sword, but an unseen force kept her in place. She growled, while Bethany’s eyes widened.

“Such power…” the mage murmured. “But you’re not a mage!”

“Oh, details, details,” the elf scoffed, waving his hand. “But enough with the death threats, though I must admit it does add a certain charm to our meetings.” He flashed a wink, and Yara glowered. “So, your meeting with Morrigan did not go entirely as planned, yes?”

Yara struggled against her invisible bonds, wishing she could plunge her dagger into the Antivan’s throat. All those riddles, and now he slipped in the apostate’s name as if it were common knowledge?!

Bethany gasped. “How do you know…”

“Please, there will be time for questions at the end,” the elf interrupted. “But time is certainly not on your side, my dear. The accident at the Conclave has done far more damage than anyone realises. It has begun the end, and if the power locking your past away is not removed, you will all perish.”

“You are _lying_ ,” Yara hissed, her tone dripping venom. “I don’t care what you claim is at stake. I don’t need my past anymore.” Not when all it had ever done was destroy everything she had tried to rebuild. When it had poisoned her closest and dearest bond…

“I am afraid it is no longer your choice,” the elf answered. “My master did not want it to come to this, but even he could not have foreseen such disaster. So here I am, offering a last resort. A key to the prison that has been driving you mad all this time.”

“What, really?” Bethany’s ears perked up. “You know how to restore Yara’s memories?”

“That, and more,” the elf proclaimed. “For the past also holds the secret to the future.” He looked straight at Yara, his gaze hardening. “And the only way to secure that future is to realise who you truly are, my dear. There is no other way, and we are out of time.”

Pain pulsed behind Yara’s temple, and she grimaced. He was making sure she would not forget his words.

“You must find the temple of the lost goddess,” the Antivan continued. “It has been forgotten for eons, but it protects a power that rivals that of the Maker himself. The Shards of Andraste will easy burn away the fugue, and you will finally be whole again. You will find it below the desert in the Western Approach of Orlais.”

A faint howl came from the passage beyond, and the elf turned around.

“Oh, I do so hate being interrupted,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Never mind.” He nodded to Bethany. “I can see you are not in the best of shape, so allow me.” He began to walk away. “Follow this path and you will return to the surface. Then you had best make your way west, before it is too late for us all.”

“Wait!” Bethany cried. “You haven’t told me…”

“Sorry my lady, perhaps next time!” the Antivan called, disappearing into the shadows. As he vanished, the force holding Yara also broke, and she fell to her knees. Bethany reached for her, but stopped herself at the last second.

“Yara…”

“No.” Yara made herself stand, fighting the dizziness. “Forget everything he said.”

Bethany’s eyes blazed. “What? Were you even _listening_? This is exactly what we’ve…”

“I said _no_.” Yara started to walk forward, using her sword to steady herself.

“But you can’t…”

Yara ignored the mage, limping faster. Her mind was made up; she would not play this roulette again. She had put far too much into recovering that which was best forgotten, and it had taken too much away. Now she couldn’t even trust her own feelings, and all she had come to love had become blackened scars. She had sacrificed _enough_.

And if meant the world would burn, then it could take her with it.


	10. Chapter 10

Snow had started falling by the time Yara and Bethany returned to the outside. The passage had brought them to a mountain pass that overlooked the valley, and the biting air was harsh against their faces. Yara hobbled to the craggy edge, surveying the landscape. Dawn had broken, but the churning clouds blotted out the sun, leaving only the sickly glow of the Breach. She could just make out the tiny buildings that made up Haven far below, but the visibility was worsening. A blizzard was coming.

Bethany sighed, her breath fogging the air. Drawing her hood over, she made towards the narrow path. Yara let her walk ahead, pulling her own scarf up, before limping after her. The Antivan Crow had kept his word, and they had encountered no further trouble during their escape. But it had been a gruelling walk, and the deafening silence between them had made it all the harder. Yara had caught each and every one of Bethany’s stifled sobs, and that had provoked her own tears. Everything felt so raw inside, and she yearned to comfort the mage, but when even a glance triggered such crippling _fear_ …

She shook her head, drawing her cloak closer. Now another burden added to the mix, one neither she nor Bethany could ignore. But the promise of finally breaking Morrigan’s fugue had lost its allure, and Yara wished she could purge it from her thoughts. The Antivan must have known about these ‘Shards of Andraste’ from the beginning, yet had still sent Yara on a fool’s errand. Four years of needless hardship and suffering, four years of being hunted and broken, and it had culminated into a wound so painful and twisted that Yara barely recognised herself. She couldn’t trust anymore, couldn’t untangle the longing and terror that distorted every feeling within.

And the thought of something out there that could unleash it all at once…

Yara’s foot caught in a patch of ice, and she slipped. She dug her sword into the ground, stopping herself falling, but her left leg groaned. Grimacing, she was forced to sit, grasping her lower thigh. Bethany spun around, retracing her steps. She reached out a hand, but Yara shied. The mage’s magic was still too weak for healing, and she would not bear Bethany’s touch if she could avoid it.

Biting back the pain, Yara made herself stand, then began walking again. She quickly had to slow down; the cold was seeping deeper, making her muscles seize up. Bethany remained right behind her, and Yara could hear her every breath. She forced it out of her mind, concentrating on the icy path. The snowfall thickened, and she raised her forearm to her eyes. She had to keep going.

The pass grew steeper, descending further into the valley. Scree blended with the ice, making it even more hazardous. Yara hesitated, taking feather-light steps. The wind snatched her breath away, and every movement was more effort than it should have been. She must have lost more blood than she realised. Her sword clacked rhythmically into the stone, but the distance between each grew longer and longer. Eventually she stumbled, and Bethany grasped her arm.

“We won’t get much further like this,” the mage declared. She renewed her grip, her fingers digging deep. Yara resisted, her pulse trembling, but then the mage’s knee pressed into her injured leg. She cried out, and Bethany pulled her arm across her shoulders. In moments she had hoisted Yara onto her back, not caring for her tremors. Yara froze, and she let out a whimper. Her head slumped onto the mage’s shoulder, begging for sleep. She took a sharp breath, the snow like needles in her throat. No, the darkness…

“Won’t let…stubborn idiot…freeze to death…” Bethany panted, falling into a steady pace. She hooked her arms under Yara’s thighs, tugging at the wound, but Yara didn’t have the strength to protest. Finally she could fight fatigue no longer, and her eyes closed.

_Her red hair tickles my cheek as she braces me onto her shoulders. My lips can still taste the bitter Sacred Ashes, and my chest draws shallow breaths. They had almost stopped entirely not so long ago. But my hand burns, and my head throbs. Only time will tell if I will be spared from death. I barely cling to consciousness, but her voice rings clear in my ears._

_“I won’t let you die,” she mutters to herself. “Not when we need you. When…” She hesitates. “…when_ I _need you.”_

_Her grip adjusts, and she falls into an even pace. Every step transmits to me, and pain pulses through my temples. But crying out is beyond me. All I can do is focus on her warmth, her scent, and pray our efforts have not been in vain._

_“You were never easy to reach,” she continues, perhaps to keep her own fatigue at bay. “You always keep yourself hidden away, even to your friends. It lets you possess incredible strength, but it also puts a terrible burden on you.” For a moment she slows, and takes a quivering breath. “If only you had told me how much you were hurting inside, perhaps I could have…” She cannot finish, and chokes back tears. “Maker, that woman has taken enough from me! Please, Elissa, you have to_ live _!”_

The darkness jerked, and Yara’s eyes opened again. Warmth played over her face, and she made out the flicker of firelight. She was resting against the wall of a cave, wrapped in a thick fur. Bethany was curled near the fire, her breaths soft and even. The wind screamed outside, flooding everything with snow. It seemed the mage had found them shelter just in time.

Yara rubbed her eyes, yawning. Another flashback, yet this one had not choked her with dread. Still, the details remained foggy, and she sighed. She ran her fingers over her sore leg, which had been dressed with a fresh bandage. It was not throbbing as much, though still stung when she tried to move it. She let her hand drop, watching the storm blitz past the cavern entrance. She hoped Nathaniel and the others had not been caught in the flurry.

Bethany murmured in her sleep, and Yara looked to her. Her face was pale, her body so frail and exhausted. Yara watched her for a moment, then turned away, holding her arms around herself. She had burdened the mage too much, and for too long. Even now she could not understand what Bethany saw in her; how the mage felt she was worth more than being with her own sister. And Yara had made the mistake of letting her too close, where she stirred feelings that remained tied to her unknown past. Feelings she had deliberately kept suppressed, and now they pulled her in all directions.

Yara put her head in her hands, her doubts swirling. Bethany was so dear to her, dearer than any family she might have known, but she couldn’t go on like this. Should she follow the Antivan’s advice and seek this lost temple? Would remembering the past allow her to finally break free of the whirlwind inside? But what if it was another red herring, another ploy meant to only break her further?

And what if restoring her memories changed _nothing_ …

“No,” she whispered to herself. The promise of freedom was a lie; just like everything else her life had become. She had wanted to believe she had moved on, that the truth meant nothing anymore, but still it lurked in the darkness, gnawing at the falsity she had created. The Left Hand had awakened it further, and its icy tendrils wrapped in her thoughts, whispering in voices she could feel but not hear. She no longer knew who she was, but more than that; she no longer _wanted_ to know. Not when it would be the crushing blow to everything she had tried to become.

When it would force her to choose between a lover she couldn’t remember and the mage who had never strayed from her side…

Yara shivered, memories of that night in Kirkwall calling back to her. Everything had happened so fast, and it had left her original plans in ruin. If only she had been strong enough to keep Bethany with Hawke, then the mage would have been spared such heartache. It was not right that she’d endured the same suffering, when it all should have been on Yara’s shoulders. Now her pain was wounding them both, and Yara could not stand Bethany hurting like this any longer.

She had to let her go.

Pulling the fur aside, Yara slowly rose to her feet. Her leg prickled, but it was no longer so tricky to put her weight through it. She reclaimed her cloak, then picked up her weapons and pack. The fire spat and crackled as she drew her scarf up and threaded her arms through the straps. Her gaze fell to Bethany again, and her chest tightened.

“You deserve better,” she murmured.

Swallowing, Yara quietly stepped towards the cavern entrance. There seemed no respite to the blizzard, and Yara sighed, resigned to wait. All she needed was a single moment, and then Bethany would be free of her.

Finally, the wind started to lessen. The snowfall slowed, and Yara stood, holding a hand against the cave wall. She clenched her teeth, willing away the last of her hesitation. It was now or never.

“No…please…”

Yara spun around. Bethany had called out in sleep. Her arms were curled around herself, and she was shivering. A nightmare.

“Don’t…don’t leave me…”

_Don’t leave me alone!_

Yara’s eyes widened. Bile soured her throat, and she retreated, throwing down her pack and weapons. She picked up the fur again, hunching down against the wall, and bowed her head. Her hands shook, and she drew her arms around her knees.

She was still too weak.

* * *

 

“Maker, they finally made it!”

Yara blinked, finding the strength to raise her head. Her whole body sagged with weariness, and it was all Bethany could do to keep them both standing. A sudden landslide had made their journey even more drawn out, and it was only now under the light of the rising moon that they had returned to Haven.

Lahara came running from the stables, still dressed in her travelling gear. She halted just short of them, her mismatched eyes widened.

“Well, don’t you two look a treat,” she commented, her brows narrowing. “And I distinctly remember ordering you to stay in Haven, Bethany.”

“Sorry,” Bethany whispered. She made to take another step, when her eyes rolled upwards and she almost fell from Yara’s hold. A twinge ran through Yara’s leg and she tensed, barely able to support the mage’s weight.

“Whoa!” Lahara tossed aside the mage’s pack and staff, then took her from Yara. “Hey Cassandra, help me out here!”

The Seeker turned, broken from her conversation from the weapon smith. Her jaw tensed, and she strode over, barking orders to the nearest soldier. She came to Yara’s side, and took her arm across her shoulders.

“Maker, are you alright?” Cassandra asked.

“Leg,” Yara said weakly.

“Infirmary, now,” Lahara stated, lifting Bethany into her arms. “Maker, what did you do to her, Yara?” She shook her head. “You know, never mind. I’ll yell at you later when you don’t look like you’re going to collapse any second.”

Cassandra called to the soldiers at the gate, and the iron doors were swiftly opened. Bethany’s eyelids twitched, but she didn’t otherwise stir. Yara sighed, reminded of their initial visit to the village. That prompted thoughts of Nathaniel, and she frowned.

“Nathaniel…the others?” she asked.

“Got here about an hour ago, a little after we did,” Lahara answered. “He was going to head out again to search for you, but it looks like you’ve saved him the trouble.”

Yara managed a nod, relieved.

“Solas has already mentioned some troubling things about what you found,” Cassandra added. “But let us see your injuries tended first. Then you can tell us the rest.”

They headed up the steep path and entered the infirmary. Now it housed ten beds, and was covered with a thick canvas to keep out the snow. Crates and tables lined the edges, overflowing with healing supplies, and a stone hearth stood at the opposite end, filled with warm embers. At present the beds were empty, and the healer—a young woman with curled brown hair—was counting stock with her assistant.

“Healer, two new ones for you,” Lahara announced, laying Bethany onto a cot. Cassandra followed suit, helping Yara to sit on the bed beside the mage. The healer turned from her sorting, and arched a brow.

“Ah, no problem, Herald.” She walked over, unclipping a round device strapped around her arm, while her assistant started to gather water, vials and clean dressings. The healer fixed the device around Bethany’s elbow, and the sight made Yara frown. Something about the gesture seemed awfully familiar.

“Here, allow me,” Lahara said, breaking Yara’s thoughts.

Yara sighed, stretching out her leg. She watched as the Herald removed the bandages, wincing as the cloth snagged the clots and set it bleeding again. Lahara then widened the tear in Yara’s legging, exposing the damaged skin. She set her hand onto it, and calming blue light seeped from her fingers into the wound. The bleeding stopped, and Yara hissed, the magic burning away the debris and grit inside. At last the break closed completely, although the pain lingered. Lahara sat back, satisfied.

“Hmm, looks like I’ve still got it,” she smirked. She stole a glance at Bethany, whose cuts and scrapes were being cleaned, and let out a breath. “So, I take it you two still aren’t on speaking terms yet?”

Yara bristled. Did the Herald have to be so blunt?

“She shouldn’t have come in the first place,” she murmured.

“Oh don’t worry, I completely agree with you,” Lahara answered. “But you’ve both come back in one piece, more or less, so I suppose I can’t be too upset.” She turned to the healer. “How’s our mage, Healer?”

“Exhausted and a bit dehydrated, but she’ll be fine after a good rest,” the healer answered. “What about your charge, Herald?”

“I’ve done most of the dirty work, but I’ll leave the rest in your capable hands,” Lahara said. She rose to her feet, flexing her fingers, before she nodded at Cassandra. “We need to give our full report, Cassandra. I’ll find Nathaniel, and if you could bring Cullen and Leliana to the meeting room, I’ll see you there.”

“At once,” Cassandra said. She bowed to Yara. “May the Maker return your strength swiftly.”

“We’ll have our own talk later, Yara,” Lahara added in an undertone. “I’ll see you around.”

The two departed for the Chantry, their steps crunching through the snow. Yara let out a breath, resting back on her cot. She glanced aside, as the healer draped a blanket over Bethany’s sleeping form. The woman’s gaze lingered on the mage, and she tilted her head. Then something seemed to click, and her eyes shot to Yara. The moment their gaze met, Yara sat up, her jaw hanging slack.

Of all people…

“Eliza?”

The healer broke into a grin.

“Maker, I thought you two seemed familiar!” She strode over and clasped Yara’s hand. “It’s been way too long, Yara.” She brushed back her curls. “Bet you found it hard to place me, what with all my grey hairs, right?”

Despite herself, Yara managed a smile. It seemed the charming teenager who had cared for her in her darkest days had followed in her father’s footsteps.

“You’re all grown up,” Yara said. “But what’s brought you to Haven?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eliza gestured to the roof of the tent, although Yara knew she was referring to the Breach. “With something like that hanging over our heads, I figured the Inquisition could do with a healer. I might not be a mage like Father was, but I’ve developed a few tricks of my own.”

Yara’s eyes widened. “Viren? Is he…”

“Passed away last year,” Eliza said, not hiding the sadness from her tone. “Can’t say it’s been easy, but I’ve managed pretty well, considering.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yara said, guilt bubbling in her throat. The man who had saved her life was gone, and she had never even thought to keep in touch. “I never even…”

“Yara, it’s okay,” Eliza answered. “We all have our own lives to lead, right? And you paid us back more than enough all the time you were in Amaranthine.” She glanced across to Bethany. “But it looks like you and Bethany still can’t keep your noses out of trouble. What happened out there?”

Yara clenched her teeth, looking away. It was still too painful to talk about. Eliza’s gaze softened, and she touched Yara’s shoulder.

“Hey, she’ll be alright,” Eliza assured. “Besides, you two wouldn’t be so close if you didn’t hit a rough patch now and then.” She began to strap the round device to Yara’s arm. “Anyway, how about I do my job and have a look at you, before the Herald has my head?”

* * *

 

The sun was high by the time Yara awoke again. Eliza had given her a sleeping draught, and it had certainly left her feeling a lot better. It had even been enough to silence the dreams, although Yara knew that effect wore off after a few uses. Nonetheless, the deep weariness that had haunted her the past few nights had eased, and she was grateful for the respite, however short-lived.

Yawning, she sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes. Bethany remained sound asleep on her cot, almost completely covered by the blanket. Eliza’s assistant sat with her, recording observations in a small notebook. He didn’t seem too worried, so the mage must have been doing well. At least physically…

“Warden Yara?”

Yara blinked, not used to such an address. She turned around, and found an unfamiliar woman waiting on her. Her olive skin and dark hair marked her Antivan heritage, and she was dressed in gold and purple silks. From the way she carried herself, she was certainly from a high standing, and seemed quite out of place in the snowy wastes.

“We have not been formally introduced,” the woman went on, bowing politely. “My name is Lady Josephine Montilyet, and I am Ambassador to the Inquisition. A pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

Yara nodded. “What do you require of me, my lady?”

“First of all, I hope you and Warden Bethany are recovering well after your recent mishaps,” Josephine said. “And second of all, I have come to return something to you, on behalf of a friend.”

Yara raised a puzzled brow, as the diplomat brought out a small leather pouch. She opened it, emptying its contents into her palm, and Yara caught a gleam of silver.

“Here.” Josephine offered her hand, revealing a silver chain and a tiny glass vial filled with a dark liquid. Yara’s eyes widened. It was her Warden pendant. She had barely given it a second thought since the Left Hand had taken it. It had come to mean so much to her, yet now it also left her with bitter emptiness. It was her only physical link to the past she could not recall; the past she no longer wanted. But after all that had happened…

Josephine cleared her throat, growing impatient.

“Well? Do you still wish to keep it?” she asked. “If not…”

Yara sighed. Against her better judgement she took the necklace, drawing it between her fingers. Even though it had been soiled by the Left Hand’s touch, she could not bring herself to discard it. Not yet.

“Sorry,” Yara said. “And thank you.”

“Good,” Josephine said, seemingly pleased. “Leliana is many things, but a common thief is not one of them.”

Yara flinched at the spymaster’s name, and Josephine’s eyes softened.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I do not mean to make excuses for what happened, but you must understand that Leliana has faced many hardships over the years.” She let out a breath. “You could say it brings out her…rougher edges, at times. But know that she deeply regrets what she did to you, and I hope you will still consider the Inquisition an ally despite this.”

Yara said nothing, letting the pendant warm in her palm. It seemed Lahara was pulling out all the stops, desperate for her to remain and help. But it was too late for that. The Herald had promised Yara’s freedom on completion of her investigation, and once she had given her report, that was exactly what she planned to do. No more empty promises, no more chasing shadows, no more pointless suffering.

She would walk away from it all, and never look back...

A sudden shout echoed from the gate, and Josephine frowned. Before she could comment, however, the doors were thrust open, and a panicked horse’s whinny followed.

“Who’s in charge around here?” A powerful, booming male voice; one that made Yara catch her breath. “I demand a full and complete explanation as to why my contingent of Ferelden Grey Wardens were murdered in cold blood!”

_Alistair?_

“Ser, please! I can fetch the Herald…”

“Then make it quick!”

Josephine shook her head.

“My apologies, Warden, but I must take my leave.” She bowed, before hurrying towards the commotion.

Yara remained stock still, clutching her pendant. Her heart pounded, and she swallowed. The Warden-Commander had presumed her and Bethany dead since the incident at Kirkwall. What would he think if he found them here?

“Alistair!” Nathaniel’s voice called out. Yara turned, catching sight of his boots beyond the canvas as he ran down to meet the Commander.

“By the Maker, you’re still alive!” Alistair breathed. “What in Andraste’s name has been going on?”

“It’s a long story…”

Their voices died away as Nathaniel took the Warden-Commander into the Chantry. Yet the lingering silence remained tense, and Yara lay down again, pulling her blanket over and closing her eyes. She had little doubt Nathaniel would mention their presence, but whatever happened, she would not be guilted into staying. No matter the consequences.

Too soon, footsteps entered the infirmary, coming to a stop at her bedside. Yara didn’t move, hoping they would think her asleep and leave her. But then a warm hand shook her, and she couldn’t help but open an eye. Nathaniel stood above her, his brow creased.

“Sorry to wake you, Yara,” he said, meaning it, “but I’ve got news. Warden-Commander Alistair’s come all the way from the Vigil, and there’s something urgent he needs to tell the three of us.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite exposition heavy, so apologies in advance...

With the setting sun behind them, Nathaniel walked straight to the Chantry. He remained silent, his jaw tensed. Bethany followed behind, looking as if she could do with a lot more sleep, but managing to keep pace. Yara swallowed, her chest tightening with every step. She never thought she would meet Alistair again, and definitely not under such circumstances. She could still recall their final farewell when they had set out for Ostwick all those years ago. Of course, the Warden-Commander hadn’t known then it was to be their last words. Now she would have to face him again, and confront the guilt she had pushed aside for so long.

They strode into the main hall, now restored to its former glory. Yara had to squint, her eyes adjusting to the dim candle-light. Her gaze skimmed the west wing entrance, and her heartbeat quickened. She bit her lip, pushing those memories away as Nathaniel marched between the pillars and opened the rear door. It led to another corridor, and he made for the doorway on the left.

Alistair was sitting on the lone desk, his arms folded. He had not changed. He sported the same short-cropped sandy hair and light stubble, but his brown eyes had grown weary, and not just from his long travels. However, his face lit up when Yara and Bethany entered. He bolted upright and snatched them into an embrace.

“Maker, of all the miracles I prayed for…” His voice was hoarse. “I can’t believe you’re both still here!”

Yara found herself returning the hug, fresh pangs set off in her chest. She had missed him more than she realised, and it was only starting to sink in how much pain she must have caused. He had been their commanding officer, for sure, but he was also their friend, and now there seemed something else that drew Yara to him, as well. Perhaps if she had given him a chance, he would have understood, and she need not have concealed her escape as she did.

“I’m sorry,” she said, struggling to meet his eyes. “We…I should have…”

“You’re both fools,” Alistair chided, squeezing their shoulders. “But after what I’ve been through, it’s a blessing just seeing you all alive.”

“You’re not too mad?” Bethany asked.

“Oh, I’m plenty mad,” Alistair said, giving them a firm shake. “Do you know how I’ve had to live with myself? Knowing that I was the one who sent you to Ostwick, into that death trap that was Kirkwall?” He glared at Nathaniel. “Then Ser Howe here tells me you got caught in the fallout, even though he knew full well you survived…”

Yara and Bethany bowed their heads, almost in unison.

“I have half a mind to drag all three of you back to the Vigil and put you on permanent Deep Roads patrol,” Alistair grumbled, shaking his head. “But then how good of a commander must I have been if you all felt you had to hide from me?”

His disappointment hit harder than any outburst, and Yara winced.

“Don’t blame them,” she said, finding her voice. “I put them to it.”

“I suspected as much,” Alistair said. His tone softened. “I wish you’d said something, Yara. I could see how unsettled you were becoming. I would’ve helped if you’d only thought to ask.”

Yara could only nod. So many ‘what ifs’ danced through her mind, and she gritted her teeth. It was much too late for regret. She had chosen this path; she would have to see it through.

Eventually Alistair sighed, and released them from his hold.

“Well, what’s done is done,” he conceded. “There’s no point wishing on what might have been.” His voice darkened. “Maker knows I’ve done enough of that in my time.”

He cleared his throat, composing himself.

“Anyway, while I’m so very happy to see you all again, you need to know what’s been happening with the Wardens,” he said. “We’re in dire straits right now, and if something isn’t done soon, there may be none of us left to face the next Blight.”

Yara’s eyes widened, and Bethany held a hand to her mouth. Nathaniel looked equally as disturbed. Alistair took in their reaction, and gave a grim nod.

“I thought I’d seen my share of insanity, having survived the Fifth Blight, but this…” He shook his head. “Once we saw the sky tear open, we knew something had gone terribly wrong. But it seemed that was just the start of it.” He clenched his fist. “That’s why I had to come here right away. To see for myself if anyone had survived, so I could warn them.”

“Warn us?” Nathaniel asked. “About what?”

Alistair let out a long breath. He squared his shoulders, his face grave.

“Tell me something,” he stated. “Since the Breach opened, have any of you heard your Calling?”

Yara blinked, struck by such a question. Bethany exchanged a confused glance with Nathaniel, before they all shook their heads.

“No, none of us have,” Bethany said. “But why ask that? We haven’t been Wardens for that long, and…”

“That is precisely my point,” Alistair interrupted. “Because not long after the Breach opened, almost every Warden at the Vigil, including me, heard their Calling, regardless of their years since Joining. And my contacts tell me the same thing happened to the Orlesian and Free Marcher Wardens, too.”

Yara gasped.

“But…But that’s not possible,” she murmured.

“I would’ve said the same,” Alistair said, “yet I can’t deny what I heard. What I’m _still_ hearing, even if it has become fainter as of late. However, it didn’t affect all of us, and it seems you three have been similarly spared.”

“How?” Bethany asked.

“I bet I know,” Nathaniel said, snapping his fingers. “It has to be the same reason we can’t sense the darkspawn anymore.”

“The black mist,” Yara murmured.

Alistair’s mouth hung open.

“What? You’ve come across Corruption as well?” he blurted.

“‘Corruption’?” Bethany repeated. “Is that what it’s called?”

“It’s the nickname we’ve given it,” Alistair said. “I’ve never seen it myself, but Marcus, Sigrun and Adele discovered some in the Deep Roads ruins near Redcliffe. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then this strange Calling happened, and once I found out they were the only ones who hadn’t heard it…”

Nathaniel’s eyes widened.

“Then this…Corruption, as you call it,” he said, “it has the power to cure the Taint?”

“I think ‘cure’ is a bit of a strong word,” Alistair said. “At the very least it can silence its effects, if you’ve been exposed to it. I was hoping to investigate it properly, but then we also suddenly received a summons from Adamant Fortress, and that concerns me.” He held a hand to his chin. “But if you’ve encountered it and the Inquisition has taken an interest, maybe there’s still hope.”

“I was about to give a report to the Herald, actually,” Nathaniel informed him. “Perhaps we should see what we can pool together.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Alistair said. “I’m afraid I can’t really offer much more, and I’ll have to leave for Adamant sooner rather than later.” He sighed. “It’s probably best if the three of you stick around and help the Inquisition. Considering you’ve lost your Taint abilities, it might not sit well with the other Wardens. And I’m sure the Herald would appreciate it.”

“We were planning to,” Bethany said.

Yara glanced away, her fist clenched. The mage could speak for herself; her mind had already been made up.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” Alistair said.

“Right,” Nathaniel said. “Let me talk to the Herald, and I’ll get back to you.”

“I need to speak to Lahara, too,” Bethany added abruptly.

Yara frowned. What was the mage planning? Surely she wasn’t going to mention the Antivan Crow…

“I’ll send her to find you after the meeting, then,” Nathaniel said. “In the meantime, you should catch up on your rest.” He bowed to Alistair. “By your leave, Commander.”

Alistair nodded, and Nathaniel left. As the door closed, the Warden-Commander sighed. He came to Yara and Bethany once more, draping his arms around them.

“You have no idea how much it means to have you two back,” he said, managing a smile. “But whatever happens next, promise me you won’t hide away again.” He glanced aside, his smile fading. “I don’t think I can take losing anyone else I care about.”

Bethany’s gaze softened, and she touched the Warden-Commander’s hand.

“We won’t,” she said, flashing a wary glance at Yara. It was all Yara could do to bite back a shiver. The mage was up to something, for certain.

However, before Bethany could continue, a long yawn escaped her. Alistair raised a brow.

“Oh, forgive me,” he said, removing his arms and stepping back. “Nathaniel told me you only just got back from the Deep Roads yesterday, you must still be exhausted. But I’m not going anywhere for the moment. We’ll catch up later.”

He strode to the door, calling one of the Chantry sisters, and soon Bethany was led back to the infirmary. Yara watched her leave, an awkward silence settling. She found herself reaching for her Warden pendant, the Warden-Commander’s words echoing. Suddenly her resolve to leave didn’t seem so robust anymore.

Before further doubts would take hold, she made towards the door.

“It was because of your lost memories, wasn’t it?”

Alistair’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the words were unmistakable. Yara hesitated, her hand on the door.

“I said I was sorry,” she muttered. “If there had been any other way…”

“I told you I’m not angry that you left,” Alistair answered. “I’m angry because you never confided in me. Wasn’t I worth your trust?”

Yara said nothing, still holding onto her necklace. Even four years on, she still had no answer for him.

“The Divine’s Left Hand wrote to me, you know,” Alistair continued, his eyes upon her. “Asking all about you, accusing you of…” He trailed off, unable to finish his train of thought. “I presumed you’d perished in the Kirkwall explosion, of course. And I never thought you’d ever be capable of…what she was suggesting. But I’ve since spoken to Leliana, and her story’s changed.”

He came towards Yara, as if studying a detailed painting. Yara folded her arms, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“I never would have believed it,” he said softly, “but when I think back to how Duke took to you, and why you always seemed so familiar but I could never quite place why…”

Yara’s eyes narrowed, and she pushed the door open. She knew where this was heading.

“Elissa, is it really…”

“The Hero of Ferelden is dead,” Yara stated, not turning around. “Let her rest in peace.”

* * *

 

Quiet steps crunched into the infirmary tent, pulling Yara from the depths of sleep. Yet she remained too tired to open her eyes, so she could not tell the source of the disturbance. Eliza must have made her sleeping draught stronger than usual.

“Bethany?” Lahara’s voice, though not much above a whisper. Yara felt a breeze cross her legs, then heard fabric rustle. The cot beside her creaked, and Bethany murmured.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” the mage answered, though she was cut off by a yawn.

“Sorry, there was a lot of debate after Nathaniel’s report,” the Herald replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Leliana and Cullen so animated, and I’m not sure I ever want to. Then Josephine had me prepare a formal report about the Conclave explosion for Alistair, and I just lost track of time.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I know it’s late, but Nathaniel said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Bethany said. “It’s about what happened after we got split from the others in the Deep Roads.”

Yara tensed. The mage really was going to spill everything. She tried to force herself to move, but her limbs were dead weights, and still she could not open her eyes. Nonetheless, her ears remained wide open, hanging onto their every word.

Damn it, Eliza!

“We ran into someone else in the Deep Roads,” Bethany said. “An Antivan elf. A former Crow, I think.”

“Wow, bet that was a surprise,” Lahara said. “Business must be booming for the Wardens if they can afford to send assassins in their place.”

“He wasn’t just some assassin,” Bethany answered. “He…knows things, Lahara. He has some kind of strange power, too. And I’m pretty sure he knew who Yara was, before…” She swallowed, letting her words tail off. “Anyway he told us something important, and it might help.”

“Oh?” The cot groaned; Lahara must have been leaning forward.

“He said the Breach was causing more damage than we knew, but there was a way to stop it getting worse,” Bethany said. She took a breath, as if steeling herself. “There’s a lost temple in the Western Approach of Orlais, and it’s connected to this ‘Corruption’; that black mist. He’s shown me where to find the ruins, and it might help close the Breach.”

Yara willed all her strength into her eyes, begging them to see the light again, but they refused. Curses would have flown from her lips, had they been able to move. She was locked inside her own body, just like she had been after her accident, and it was worse than any nightmare. Surely the draught could not have been that potent…

Why was Bethany _lying to the Herald?_

“Really now?” Lahara asked, intrigued. “Sounds very convenient, don’t you think? You just happened to come across this man, and he just _happens_ to have a solution to our biggest headache?”

“I completely agree,” Bethany admitted, “and that’s why Yara didn’t want to mention it. But I don’t think we should overlook this, either. We know Corruption can negate magic, and even the Taint. What’s to say we _couldn’t_ use it to seal the Breach if we had a way to manipulate it?”

“Hmm.” Lahara was quiet for a moment, mulling over the mage’s proposal. Yara screamed at herself, begging her arms and legs to respond. That temple had nothing to do with sealing the Breach, and Bethany knew it. She was playing with fire.

“You know, you might have a point,” the Herald said at last. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. We’re not exactly getting anywhere on the whole ‘fix the glowing green tear in the sky’ front.” She paused. “Although if we’re going to head to a place where that mist is rampant, it might be best if you stayed behind. It’s only going to make you powerless again.”

“You won’t know where to look without me,” Bethany countered. “And I’m not afraid to lose my magic.” She swallowed. “Besides, it’ll do the same to you.”

“More than likely, but I don’t get to bow out just because I’m a mage,” Lahara said. “Okay, I’ll put this to my advisors tomorrow and see what they think. If they agree, we’ll check it out as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Herald,” Bethany said.

“Please, call me Lara,” Lahara insisted. “I get enough of that stuffy title during the day.” She gave a soft chuckle. “You’re doing far more for us than most of the actual Inquisition, you know. I really do appreciate it.”

Bethany sighed. “I…I just…hate feeling so helpless…”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lahara said. “I know it hurts, but she’ll snap out of it eventually. Trust me.” She paused. “If you need me for anything else, just say the word.”

“I will,” Bethany said. “Good night, Lara.”

“Sleep well, Bethany.”

The Herald’s footsteps departed, and Yara wished she could summon a demon to break the hold on her body. This couldn’t have been an accident. As she struggled, barely even able to twitch a finger, a soft scrape caught her ear, and she felt warmth resting beside her arm.

“I know you can hear me, Yara,” Bethany murmured in her ear. “I made sure to tweak Eliza’s draught a little. Hate me if you want, but I’m doing this for your own good.” She grasped Yara’s hand, her own palm warm and soft. “I won’t let you run from this anymore. For both our sakes.”


	12. Chapter 12

The desert air was quiet, and Yara took another swig from her water flask. It was already half-empty, but it was almost impossible to ignore her ever-present thirst. Savouring the droplets cooling her throat, she scanned the horizon for the umpteenth time. A chasm crested with burnt rocks stretched ahead, and she scowled. They had been wading in the dunes for days, and there was still no sign of the scout camp. She let out a quiet groan, brushing back her sticky hair. Her brow was scorched, her clothes stank of sweat, and if they didn’t find more water soon…

“The scout camp should not be much further,” Cassandra said, her forehead glistening. Despite her flushed cheeks she retained her composure, keeping a solid pace. Still, how she had not melted under all her plate armour was anyone’s guess.

“You said that two hours ago,” Lahara grumbled, shaking sand from her ears. She pulled her neckerchief up, trying to protect her cracked lips. “Ugh, and I thought summers in the Ostwick Dragon Tower were unbearable…”

“I’m sure this place has its own charms, once you get used to it,” Varric chimed, fanning his face with his hand.

“It has almost as many shades of brown as the Deep Roads,” Alistair added, wiping his soaked cheeks. He had already removed his gauntlets and greaves, though it seemed to have had little cooling effect. “I’m glad I didn’t have to travel here all by myself.”

“I do not envy you, Warden-Commander,” Cassandra replied. “You still have another few days without us before you’ll reach Adamant Fortress.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Alistair cringed. “I should enjoy the company while I can.”

“This had better be worth it, Bethany,” Lahara said, although her tone was playful.

“It will,” Bethany answered, conjuring a slight wind to keep the sand off her face. Her clothes were drenched, her cheeks raw from the sun, but her eyes shone with determination.

Her gaze briefly fell to Yara, and Yara turned away. This was madness; she should have bolted for freedom when she had the chance. But Lahara and Alistair had been watching her every move, and the thought of what the Herald would do once she discovered Bethany’s trick was enough to stop her slipping away.

Yet she could not understand what the mage was thinking. It was no surprise she wanted Yara to recover her past, even though Yara had told her otherwise, but her memories had nothing to do with the Breach; nothing to do with the Inquisition. So why had Bethany forced everyone to come along?

Had the Antivan shown her something else?

“You alright, Grim?”

Varric’s voice broke her thoughts. She turned to the dwarf, who had fallen into step beside her. He gave a tentative smile. “You’ve been pretty quiet, even by your standards.”

“Hot,” Yara answered simply.

“Heh, you can say that again,” Varric chortled, “but that wasn’t really what I was getting at.” He glanced over at Bethany, concerned. “You seem quite down these days. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you and Sunshine have had a falling out.”

Yara’s fist clenched. Why did everyone have to keep bringing this up?

“Look, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but trust me when I say it’s doing neither of you any good,” Varric went on. “It’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up. And whatever happened I’m sure it can be fixed with enough patience.”

“It’s none of your business,” Yara said darkly.

“So you keep telling everyone,” Varric said. “But this is taking its toll on you, Grim. And even a blind beggar can see you miss her, too.”

His words set off a dull ache, but Yara wrestled it down. She had become better at it now.

“Whatever,” she muttered under her breath.

Varric frowned, but didn’t say anything more.

At last they crested the last dune. The sand gave way to layered rock, revealing a canyon that spanned most of the horizon. The sunset-coloured stone plunged into a sheer drop, and far below sparkled a shallow river. Caverns were embedded into the cracked walls, and Yara spotted several tents on the north side. A narrow path had also been worn into the jagged stone. It would take them right the way down to the river, but a single careless slip would end in disaster.

“I knew we should have taken the northern route,” Cassandra grumbled.

“And walk right into the middle of that sandstorm instead?” Lahara scoffed. “Come on Cass, we don’t all have bones of steel.”

“I never thought you one for being scared of heights, Seeker,” Varric added.

“It is not fear of heights that drives my caution,” Cassandra said, her brows narrowed. “Everyone take extra care.”

Yara nodded. She went first, sliding between a pair of boulders onto the rock platform below. At least with her leg healed she would not have to worry as much. She set out, protected from the merciless sun by the overhanging stone. The others followed close behind, their boots scuffing the loose gravel. Yara kept her focus on the path, ducking beneath tangled tree roots that clung to the canyon walls. Occasionally she stepped across wooden slats, worn and bleached by the desert conditions. Perhaps there had been a mine in these parts once.

Abruptly the path ended. Two lone posts marked the site of a former bridge, but the planks had long fallen away, leaving nothing but a broad gap too wide to jump. Piece of wood remained in the rocks, splintered and broken, and Yara sighed. She made to step back, when Lahara touched her wrist.

“Leave this to me.” She slid past Yara, her palms burning with magic. At the edge of the rock she gestured to the broken planks. At once they came to life, breaking free of their stony grave. The cracks vanished, becoming whole again, and then Lahara dropped her arms, letting the slats fall into place.

“Restorative magic,” Bethany murmured. “I’ve never seen it used like that before.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Lahara smirked, dusting her hands. “Seriously though, it’s not that fancy. It’s almost the same as healing, except you do it on inanimate objects.”

“That makes it much harder,” Bethany argued. “With living tissue, you can sense the pulses where the body is trying to fix itself. But with stone, or wood…”

“True, but with practice you can get a feel for any material as well,” Lahara said. “It’s way quicker than the temporal reversal crap, and takes half the mana, too.” She gave the mage a light-hearted nudge. “I reckon you’d be pretty good at it, considering your healing talents.”

Bethany hid her face in her collar, although her sunburnt cheeks made it hard to tell if she was blushing or not. Yara scoffed, crossing the bridge and continuing to the bottom of the chasm. She would see what would happen to the Herald’s friendliness once she realised Bethany had been stringing her along.

Finally they returned to level ground and approached the tents. Strangely, no-one was around to greet them. The campfire was still warm, however, and there were abandoned food rations on the ground. Whatever had called them away had only occurred recently.

“This is never a good sign,” Alistair said, scouring the tents. “They didn’t even leave a watch-guard.”

“They cannot have ventured far,” Cassandra said. “We should split up and search the area.”

“Good idea,” Lahara said, when suddenly her left hand sparked. She cried out, holding her wrist as tendrils of green emerged. They drifted towards the cavern behind them, drawn by an unseen force. The Herald’s eyes widened.

“Or maybe not,” she said. “There must be a rift inside!”

She drew her staff and hurried into the darkness. Yara snatched her sword and dagger free, bolting after her. The jade glow provided more than enough light, and she dashed through the craggy stones and wooden archways. The walls gleamed, and Yara also caught iron tracks in the ground, confirming her earlier hunch.

The tunnel branched, but Lahara knew instinctively which path to take. At last shouts caught Yara’s ears, and she tensed her grip on her blades.

“There they are!” Cassandra shouted. “Help them!”

They rushed into the chamber, bathed in the green aura. The rift stood in the centre, surrounded by a mix of Rage demons and wounded scouts. A female dwarf was the only one still standing, fending them off with a single crossbow, but she was limping. Then a demon lunged, smacking the weapon from her hand, and she yelped.

Snarling, Yara charged. She thrust her sword right through the first Rage demon, and it screeched. It flailed its arms, grasping at the blade that protruded through its chest, but Yara yanked it back, twisting. The demon hissed, its limbs catching flame, only to have them hacked off by Alistair. He kicked the burning mess aside, exchanging a nod with Yara. Together they raised their swords, before driving them simultaneously into the creature’s belly. The demon gagged, dissolving into nothingness.

A welcome blast of cold prickled the back of Yara’s neck. She turned, Bethany’s spell freezing the demon behind her. Cassandra leapt, bashing its face with her shield, and her blade did the rest. The creature shattered into a thousand fragments, and she stood, brushing icicles from her shoulders. Varric dealt a final blow to the last demon, and the rift shimmered.

“My turn!” Lahara called, stretching out her left hand. The green light surged, attracted to her palm, and she clasped her fingers together. The crystals within the rift began to crack, and then they exploded, the connection to the Fade finally severed.

“Praise Andraste!” breathed the dwarf, dropping to her knees. “You have amazing timing, Herald.”

“Casualty report, Scout Harding?” Cassandra asked, as Lahara and Bethany hurried to the wounded.

“Four injured, one unconscious back at camp, but everyone accounted for,” Harding said, wiping her brow.

“I take it you didn’t set up base here for the extra excitement,” Lahara said, tending to a scout with a bleeding shoulder.

“No, that rift appeared about fifteen minutes ago,” Harding replied, as Bethany healed her leg. “Which I thought was a bit odd, considering this never happened in Ferelden. But if you hadn’t come when you did…” She trailed off. “We won’t be that careless again.”

“Hey, there’s still a lot we don’t understand about these things,” Varric consoled. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“If you ask me, I think the rifts are getting more unstable again,” Lahara commented, glancing at her left hand. “But we’ll worry about that later. Let’s patch these guys up and get back to the camp.”

Once the scouts were healed, the group trudged out of the tunnels. Soon they were back in the searing heat, and Yara sat beside the campfire. She pulled a rag from her pouch and began cleaning her soiled blades. Cassandra and Alistair refilled their water flasks in the river, while Lahara sat next to Yara, massaging her left palm.

“So, what can you tell us about this area, Harding?” the Herald asked.

“Well, we’ve found no sign of that temple you asked about,” Harding said, picking up a report from her table. “But we’ve found plenty of that black mist to make up for it.”

“Maker, does Corruption really spread so quickly?” Alistair breathed.

“I don’t think it’s directly connected to the pocket you found near Haven,” Harding said, “but it’s definitely the same stuff. Since it blocks a lot of the old mining tunnels, it’s limited how much we’ve been able to explore. If there are some sort of ancient ruins around here, my guess is that it’s beyond the Corruption.”

“How will we find anything more if every path is blocked?” Cassandra asked.

“There’s another passageway a little ways east that hasn’t been affected,” Harding said. “We were going to check it out further, but then that rift appeared.”

“Well, if all these tunnels are infested with Corruption, then at least we know we’re getting warmer,” Lahara said. “Thanks for your hard work, Harding. We’ll take over from here.”

“Whatever the Inquisition needs of me,” Harding said, giving a salute.

“Take a break and look after our Warden-Commander for a bit,” Lahara said. “Also, if you know any quick routes to Adamant Fortress, be sure to let him know.”

“You’re too kind, Herald,” Alistair said.

“In the meantime, let’s take a look at that other passage,” Lahara went on. Before she could continue, her stomach rumbled, and she gave an embarrassed chuckle. “After a little lunch break, of course.”

* * *

 

The eastern mining tunnel proved in good order, despite the number of decades since it had been abandoned. Yara studied the reinforced walls, the stone stripped bare of whatever minerals it once held. A sigh escaped her, and she licked her lips, sensing the pressing air within. She should not have let the Inquisition come this far. The Corruption was nothing to be trifled with, and now they were heading into its heart once more. They were facing an unnecessary risk, and all for the sake of a lie…

“Not getting cold feet, are we?” Lahara asked, approaching the tunnel entrance.

Yara swallowed. “Listen, Herald…”

“Don’t pretend I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Lahara interrupted. “You’ve wanted to ditch us the moment you got back to Haven, but haven’t found that opportune moment yet.” She poked Yara’s shoulder, her voice lowered. “Might I advise you don’t try anything here, or you might not like the consequences.”

Yara glowered. That might have been a consideration before, but not any longer. For Andraste’s sake, what would it take to get her to _listen_ …

Before she could retort, however, the others caught up. Yara quickly pushed back her anger, taking a calming breath.

“How shall we proceed?” Cassandra asked, scanning the tunnel ahead.

“Well, since Corruption blocks magic, we should keep in pairs,” Lahara suggested. “You stick with Bethany, and I’ll hang with Yara. Varric can guard the rear.”

“Hey, what’d I do to deserve that?” Varric protested.

“I see no problem with this arrangement,” Cassandra said.

The dwarf rolled his eyes, as the Seeker reached into her pack and brought out two torches. Bethany set them aflame, and Cassandra passed one to Yara.

“Be vigilant,” she warned. “There could be anything down there.”

Yara sighed, taking the torch. It seemed there would be no going back now. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped across the threshold of the tunnel. The air cooled, turning stagnant, and the dust was irritating, making her eyes water. This was becoming far too familiar.

The tunnel stretched deep into the gorge. Yara passed several branches, but most were filled with rubble or blocked by rusted gates. Finally, after an hour’s walk, they came to a set of platforms and ladders that led further down. Fortunately there was plenty of open space, even so far underground, so Yara was able to climb down without mishap.

As she stepped back onto hard rock, she turned, studying the new passage. It branched to the left and right, and she chewed her lip.

“Any idea where we should go first?” Lahara asked, coming to join her.

“I’d say check left,” Varric said, jumping down from the last rung. “If my dwarf senses are correct, that would take us around the side where Harding said there was a lot of Corruption.”

“You heard the dwarf, Yara,” Lahara said.

Yara took the left corridor, raising her torch higher. The flames danced off the barren walls, the rocks scarred from repeated attack with pickaxes and shovels. The mine extended further than she’d thought.

“I wonder who owned these mines,” Bethany asked aloud, running her hand over the chipped stone. “They remind me of Darktown a little.”

“You give Darktown too much credit, Sunshine,” Varric said. “That place isn’t nearly as pristine as this.”

“It was certainly built to last,” Cassandra added, staring at the oak beams that kept the roof aloft.

“But like any resource, it was bled dry and left to rot,” Lahara said. “Still, if these walls could talk…”

She stopped short, abruptly grasping her left hand. A flicker of green escaped her palm, but it didn’t crackle as it had done earlier.

“Not another rift, surely?” Bethany asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lahara said, examining her fingers, “but my mark doesn’t like what’s up ahead.”

Cassandra drew her sword. “Be prepared for anything.”

Yara nodded, passing her torch to Lahara and bringing her weapons to hand. Varric primed a bolt, and they set off again, watching the flickering shadows.

The passage took them to another chamber, but this one had no floor. Instead the river raced below, the spray refreshing to Yara’s cheeks. A rope bridge stretched across to a jutting ledge, but several planks were missing, and it swayed precariously above the raging foam.

“Honestly, why even bother with something so flimsy,” Lahara muttered, flicking the rope rail with a finger.

“Can’t you fix it like before?” Varric asked.

“My trick only works if I have the original raw materials to hand,” Lahara said. “And I’m not going fishing.”

“Never mind, it should hold if we cross one at a time,” Cassandra said. Sheathing her sword, she carefully set out. The bridge listed, but she spread her weight, managing to step between the twisted planks. At last she reached the safety of the ledge beyond, no worse for wear.

Bethany ventured next, keeping her arms aloft to hold her balance. Then it was Varric’s turn, leaving only Yara and the Herald.

“After you,” Lahara said, her mismatched eyes gleaming. Yara huffed, knowing the Herald was doing her utmost to block any chance of her escape. She sheathed her blades and stepped to the planks, glancing to the river below. The foamy water roared; a current that would drag her to death if she fell. Taking a breath, she started out. The bridge swayed, threatening to give out, but she held firm and jumped the last of the distance to the ledge.

Lahara checked her staff, making sure it was secured, before she approached the first plank. She held up her arms, taking cautious steps. All seemed to be going well, but at the half-way mark her left hand surged with green light. Gasping, Lahara froze, clutching her hand to her chest.

“Not now…” she muttered.

“Lara, run!” Bethany suddenly screamed.

Yara’s eyes snapped to the entrance on the other side, and she swore. A hulking great… _creature_ had emerged from the rocks, and it was making straight for the bridge. Two curved horns emerged from its head, and it walked on four massive claws. Its fur was entirely black; why they had not spotted it earlier.

Lahara broke into a run, not caring that the bridge was swinging wildly. Varric fired at the creature, but it was faster than it looked, and tore through the bridge post. The planks collapsed, and Lahara cried out, grasping for the ledge.

“Lahara!” Yara grabbed the edge of the cliff and stretched her hand as far as she dared. The Herald’s palm met her own, and she held on with all her might. Lahara hit the stone, the breath knocked from her lungs. The impact was enough to crack the ledge, and Yara yelped, the rocks crumbling in her hand. Cassandra shot to her, her fingers tangling in Yara’s scarf, but the fabric ripped and the two fell.

Yara grunted, snatching at the rock again with her free hand. She managed to claw her fingers into the slick stone, preventing them from hitting the water. The rushing river rumbled in her ears, soaking her, and her muscles shrieked from the strain. Bethany tried to stretch her staff down to them, but she was too far up.

“Damn it, I can’t reach!” she cursed.

“It’s alright!” Lahara called. “Yara, over there!”

Yara followed the Herald’s instruction, spying a rocky outcrop just above the river. Another passage lay behind it, cut into the cliff. It was their only way out.

Grimacing, Yara pulled Lahara against the rock-face. The Herald let go of her, finding her own handholds, then shimmied across. Yara followed, half-blinded by spray, but eventually they both reached the outcrop. Breathing hard, Yara looked back to the fallen bridge, rubbing her aching shoulder. The creature had vanished.

“Are you two okay?” Bethany called.

“We’re fine,” Lahara shouted back. She pulled back her drenched hair, wringing it out. “Go on ahead, we’ll find our way back to you.”

They spent a moment catching their breath. Yara glanced to the cliff, but it was far too sheer to climb. Once recovered, Lahara raised her staff, conjuring a ball of Veilfire. She nodded towards the open passage, and they ventured inside.

“Let’s see how long this lasts,” she remarked. “Oh, and thanks, Yara.”

Yara nodded in acknowledgement, brushing stray droplets from her face. “What was that thing?”

“Maker knows,” Lahara shrugged, rubbing her left hand. “Maybe that’s what set my mark off? But it didn’t look like a normal demon, if that’s what it was.”

“And it could attack us again,” Yara stated. She clenched her fist. “We shouldn’t have come here, Lahara. Bethany shouldn’t have said anything, and you shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Lahara paused, her brow raised.

“You think I didn’t know she was lying?”

Her words hung in the air, and Yara’s eyes widened.

“What?” She stared at the Herald. “You _knew_?”

“C’mon, dear Bethany is far too sweet to know how to be truly convincing,” Lahara said. “But there was some truth to her words. I believe her about there being a temple down here. What she said about controlling Corruption, however, is something else. I doubt anything has that kind of power.”

“Then why did you go along with it?” Yara asked. “When it puts your own people in danger…”

“Because only one thing would’ve made Bethany this desperate,” Lahara answered. “You.”

Yara tensed.

“Yara, we might not have known each other for very long, but we’re a lot more alike than you realise,” the Herald continued. “Whenever we come to something that hurts too much, we _run_.” She flexed the fingers on her left hand. “But as much as we want escape, it only brings more pain in the end.” She let out a breath. “Does the possibility of being the Hero of Ferelden frighten you that much?”

“You don’t understand,” Yara murmured, clasping her fingers around her Warden pendant. “It…It would change everything.”

“It would change nothing, Yara,” Lahara countered. “It doesn’t mean your feelings for Bethany are a lie.”

“And what about the feelings I can’t remember?” Yara said softly. The feelings that conflicted, that still wore at her, even now. The feelings that meant she couldn’t let anyone close again.

“That I can’t answer,” Lahara said, “but do you really want to live like this for the rest of your life? When there’s a chance you can get everything back, and put it all to rest?”

Yara remained silent, the turmoil within stirred right back up. Try as she might, her resolve always withered when confronted with the truth.

“I…I don’t know anymore,” she whispered.

“I think you do, Yara,” Lahara said. “You just need to find the courage to follow through with it.”

The Herald said nothing more, walking away into the passage. Yara wandered after her, the burden of her thoughts returned. How many times would she run down the same roads, and come to a different conclusion every time…

She didn’t have long to dwell, however, as the passage opened into another chamber. Most of the walls were jagged rock, filled with more crevices leading to Maker-knew where, but the north façade was made entirely of white marble. Six giant pillars held up the beautiful stone, carved with intricate designs. Between them stretched an enormous gate, adorned with golden runes.

The lost temple.

But they were not the only ones admiring the sight. Three other figures stood before the ruin, and Yara’s mouth hung agape. One was a tall, brown-haired woman sporting a pair of daggers, another was a white-haired male elf, and the last was a shorter elf mage.

It couldn’t be…

Yara stepped forward, her footfalls echoing, and the brown-haired woman turned around. Her eyes met Yara’s, and they widened in shock.

“Hawke?”


	13. Chapter 13

Hawke’s surprise was short-lived, and she broke into a wide grin. She took a breath, about to speak, when a savage shriek rocked the chamber.

“Behind you!” Fenris shouted, drawing his broadsword.

Yara spun around, as a shroud of darkness emerged from one of the caves. Rapidly it took shape, gaining limbs, claws and horns; the same creature that had destroyed the rope bridge earlier. Black smoke rolled off its shoulders like coal dust, and it bolted straight for Yara.

Lahara tackled Yara aside. They hit the ground, just as the beast swept past where they had been standing. Fenris bellowed, slashing his sword in a wide arc. His blade melted through the creature’s body, but in seconds it reformed itself. It howled, raising its claws.

“Heads up!” Lahara shouted, rolling to her feet and readying a spell.

“No wait, don’t use magic!” Hawke yelled.

Her cry came too late. Lahara launched a fireball into the creature’s back. The flames hissed, burning its fur, before becoming completely engulfed. The beast shook itself, like a mabari emerging from a bath. Then a pair of fiery eyes appeared on its head, and a wave of fire shot from its mouth. Lahara swore, her sleeve singed.

“You could’ve said something earlier!” she scoffed, retreating to the temple. Merrill stood beside her, her eyes never leaving the beast, but similarly powerless to face it.

“Yara, Fenris, flank it and spare no quarter!” Hawke commanded, drawing her daggers.

Nodding, Yara snatched her sword free and stood back to back with the elf warrior. For once his lyrium markings were not glowing, and his lip curled.

“On three,” Yara murmured. Fenris grunted in agreement. “One, two…NOW!”

They charged as one, making straight for the creature. It bawled, readying another flamed breath, but at the last moment the pair split up. Yara took the left side, sweeping her sword across the beast’s flank. It screeched, more black dust spilling, while Fenris mirrored the same blow. The shadow stumbled, and the fiery light in its eyes vanished.

Hawke yelled, making her own charge. She darted straight into the creature, her twin blades a whirlwind of steel. They shredded every piece of blackened flesh they could find, faster than the creature could repair itself. Finally the beast lost its shape, and collapsed into a pile of dust. The blackened particles retreated into the ground, and then the world fell still once more.

Fenris wiped his brow, replacing his broadsword.

“Still as keen a fighter as ever, Yara,” he commended. “Good work.”

“Thanks,” Yara said, “but what in the Maker’s name are you all doing here? And what _was_ that?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Hawke replied, sheathing her blades. “And if you’re here, that means Bethany can’t be far. Where is she?”

“She’s somewhere in the caves above us, along with the rest of my friends,” Lahara spoke. Her cheeks flushed, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “And uh, sorry about that…miscalculation.”

“And you are?” Hawke’s eyes narrowed, but then she noticed the mark on the Herald’s hand. Her jaw hung slack. “Andraste’s grace, you can’t be…”

“Lahara Trevelyan, formerly of the Ostwick Circle, and current Herald of Andraste,” Lahara said, giving a small bow. “But it seems you knew that, huh?”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Hawke admitted, “but I never imagined I’d run into you so far from the Breach.” Her face turned grave. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

“Sheesh, if you’re that unhappy to see me, blame your sister,” Lahara said, rolling her eyes. “She’s the one who dragged me along.”

Hawke’s eyes widened.

“Bethany brought you?” She bit her lip. “How in the Maker’s name did she know…”

“Look, we can argue the details later,” Lahara interrupted, folding her arms. “But I’d really like to know what the heck is going on.”

“As would I, Champion!”

Cassandra’s voice broke through, and all eyes turned to the upper caverns. The others had caught up. The Seeker stormed across the ledge, the loose rocks scattering, and she dragged Varric behind her. Bethany followed, her brow creased. They navigated the precarious paths, and soon joined the group at the temple gate.

“Aw, it’s like a proper reunion!” Merrill said, clasping her hands together. “But that seems a strange way to hug someone. Is it a Nevarran custom?”

“Hey, mind not crushing me so hard, Seeker?” Varric grumbled, trying to free himself, but Cassandra did not let up on her grip.

“You have a lot to answer for, Varric!” she snarled. “All this time you were _lying_ , stating you had no idea about the Champion’s whereabouts…”

“It was the truth!” Varric protested.

“We’ll see…”

“Seeker Pentaghast, I appreciate you not man-handling my friend like that,” Hawke said, her eyes narrowing. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

Cassandra hissed, throwing Varric aside. Varric winced, rubbing his sore bicep.

“I’m telling you, Seeker, this is a total coincidence!” the dwarf said. “This was the last place I expected to find Hawke!”

Cassandra’s eyes flared, her hand on her sword-hilt. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t…”

“Cass, knock it off,” Lahara said sternly, stepping between her and the dwarf. “We have bigger things to worry about. You can threaten him later.”

“But…”

“Seeker, please,” Hawke said, her voice softening. “I’ve not been in contact with Varric for a little while, and that’s the honest truth. And I’ve not been deliberately avoiding you, either. I’ve been…busy.”

“And just what _have_ you been doing, Amber?” Bethany asked, her jaw tense. She seemed more upset than relieved to see her sister; a stark contrast to their reunion in Kirkwall all those years ago. Guilt rumbled in Yara’s chest, and she sighed. The rift between them had made the mage so much colder, even to her own family.

Hawke blinked, taken aback by the mage’s response. A flicker of hurt crossed her eyes, but she swiftly forced it away.

“Well, it’s a long story,” she said at last. “Suffice to say we’ve been looking into sightings of red lyrium, in between avoiding the mage-Templar fighting, and it’s taken us to some interesting places.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve found more of the stuff,” Varric said. “Even my contacts were pretty quiet about it, until the Breach opened.”

“Thankfully no, but we came across something that’s possibly even worse,” Hawke said.

“You’re talking about Corruption, right?” Lahara offered.

Merrill raised a brow. “That’s a good name for it.”

“It’s what the Ferelden Wardens call it,” Bethany said. “But how did you discover it?”

“It was in the Vimmark Chasm,” Hawke answered. “I got a tip off about a possible red lyrium deposit in an abandoned fortress there. But it proved to be a trap. We got ambushed, when this dark mist appeared out of no-where.” She folded her arms. “It corroded the walls, blocked Fenris’s lyrium abilities and Merrill’s magic, and came pretty close to overwhelming us altogether. If it wasn’t for a helpful Warden passing through, we might not have made it out alive.”

Bethany gasped. For a moment her coldness thawed, and she brushed her sister’s hand. Hawke managed a nod, returning the gesture.

“Anyway, in return we helped him out with a favour,” she said, “and that was when Warden-Commander Stroud approached us. He’d discovered more of the mist in the Deep Roads near Ansburg, and it was spreading towards the reservoir that the city and Westland Keep use for water.”

“Maker, that sounds bad,” Lahara said.

“But can Corruption even be contained?” Yara asked.

“We found a temporary fix,” Hawke answered, “but since it wasn’t a true solution, I offered to stick around to help Stroud’s research. It’s all I’ve been doing these past two years.” She put her arms around Fenris and Merrill. “Along with these two, of course.”

“It’s so fascinating,” Merrill said, her eyes lighting up. “The way it forms these lovely smoke trails, and makes pretty shapes…”

“It’s damned dangerous, you mean,” Fenris retorted. “I have never seen a force on Thedas like it. And it’s already attracted attention from those who’d seek to use it for their own gain.”

“Well, good luck to them,” Lahara snorted. “It’ll take some force indeed to control it, if it’s even possible.”

“That’s not stopping people from trying.” Hawke gestured to where the dust monster had collapsed. “That creature we fought earlier? The result of a rogue Templar’s experiments, and it’s been following us from Ansburg. We must’ve defeated it, what, eleven times now? But whenever we pass a pocket of the mist, it keeps returning.”

“It behaves differently, too,” Fenris said. “As you saw, it didn’t block magic, but it was able to absorb it and use it as its own. And since it can’t be killed…”

“Maker, don’t we have enough to worry about with that giant hole in the sky?” Varric muttered. “Now the shadows might swallow us up as well…”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Bethany murmured, her eyes narrowing. “Any Templar would jump at the chance to cut every mage off from their magic. It would let them completely wipe us out.”

“Not a thought I was particularly keen on, either,” Hawke said. “So, here we are, right at the mist’s source, or so we believe.”

An involuntary shiver ran down Yara’s spine. This could not have been coincidence. Something was trying to make sure they were all together at the same time. But why?

And what did Corruption have to do with her missing memories?

“So what about you?” Merrill asked, breaking Yara’s thoughts. “Did you want to wish us well before we went in?”

“Actually, we were here for much the same reason,” Lahara said. “If we could find a way to harness Corruption, it could help fix the Breach.”

“You’ve wasted a journey,” Hawke said. “Forgive my abruptness, but you really need to be concentrating on that. You won’t find anything that will help down here.”

“We’re not just going to walk away because you said so,” Lahara shot back. “And besides, I’m guessing this temple is bigger than it looks. We’ll cover more ground if we work together, and we might both find what we’re looking for.”

Hawke rolled her eyes.

“Herald, if Corruption ends up affecting your mark and you lose your ability to seal rifts…”

“It doesn’t, and I won’t,” Lahara said, flexing the fingers on her left hand. The mark sparked green, and Merrill let out an intrigued gasp. “As you can see, it’s working perfectly fine. Now stop trying to brush us off and let’s go already.”

Hawke opened her mouth to protest further, when Cassandra stepped forward.

“We are wasting precious time,” she growled. “Every minute we sit here arguing is another minute the Breach remains a threat. The Inquisition needs to find a way to close it as soon as possible, and we are running out of options. We will accept if Corruption is not the answer, but not without seeing for ourselves first.”

Hawke sighed, defeated.

“Very well,” she said. “Merrill, open the gate.”

* * *

 

The main antrum was a sight to behold. The walls, ceiling and floor were brilliant marble, and Yara was entranced by the golden glyphs etched onto the gleaming surfaces. It was very different to the Deep Roads ruins, despite being a similar distance from the surface. Narrow channels ran parallel to their passage, filled with water from the river. The gurgling echoed in Yara’s ears, along with their steps across the tiles, and she let out a breath.

She watched Bethany from the corner of her eye. The mage kept her fists clenched, hiding a slight tremor. She was becoming apprehensive, and Yara licked her lips. Perhaps Bethany was starting to regret her decision to bring her here.

“So, I take it you sorted things with the Left Hand, since you’re working for the Inquisition now?” Hawke asked, walking beside her sister.

Bethany blinked, broken from her thoughts.

“Oh, you could say that,” she said at last. “But it’s led to…other problems.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Hawke grasped the mage’s hand. “But I’m glad to see you’re alright. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” Bethany whispered, squeezing Hawke’s palm.

Yara focused on the path, biting back the pangs in her chest. It was better this way; at least Bethany had her sister to confide in again. Maybe it would be enough for Yara to finally move on, alone. But deep down she knew she still couldn’t let the mage go. No matter how much pain it brought them both.

Lahara cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this looks ancient elven,” she remarked, hoping to change the subject.

“It has the right markings, but it’s not from the time of the Evanuris,” Merrill said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s much older.”

“Older?” Varric raised a brow. “How can you tell?”

“You can feel it in the stone.” Merrill gazed to the etchings, her brow furrowed. “The ancient elves might have visited at some point, but they weren’t the ones to build this place.”

“Perhaps Corruption forced them to abandon it,” Cassandra postulated.

“Either way, be on your guard,” Fenris said. “This place must be crawling with traps.”

Yara nodded, keeping her sword loose in its sheath. So far there had been no further signs of Corruption, nor the dust creature, but Yara could sense the pressure in the air. The mist was probably deeper inside the ruins.

The main passage ahead was blocked, so they took an adjacent corridor. After winding through several desolate rooms, they came to a balcony overlooking the main chamber. It was completely flooded, the water level high enough to touch. The floor glowed with an ethereal light, casting distorted beams across the waves. As Yara peered closer, she could make out a sealed doorway at the very bottom, along with two vents. One had been closed off, while the other remained open, letting water feed the pool.

“Well, this is helpful,” Varric said dryly.

“There must be a way to get the water level down and open the doors,” Hawke said.

“I could make a huge hole in the floor for you,” Lahara offered.

“And risk a wave of Corruption spilling out? No thank you,” Fenris huffed.

Yara sighed, reaching for her Warden pendant. Part of her wanted to remain obstructive so they could leave quicker, but another part of her begged to keep going. At the very least, the threat of Corruption was not something she could ignore. It would be worth investigating the area for that. If they happened to come across the Shards of Andraste, however…

“Wait, there’s an open vent down there,” Bethany said, pointing. “It might lead to the main reservoir. I can check it out.”

“No you won’t,” Hawke said, grabbing her wrist. “I will.”

“I can look after myself, Amber,” Bethany mumbled. “I can hold my breath longer, too.”

“Sure, but if there’s Corruption nearby you’ll be defenceless,” Hawke argued. “And Maker knows what else could be lurking down there. You stay with the others. I won’t take long.”

“I agree, let Hawke go,” Lahara added. “Not like I fancy getting my toes wet, either.”

“The Herald of Andraste is aquaphobic?” Varric chortled.

“Hey, I’m a mage-hero-adventurer-prophet who can’t swim, okay?” Lahara grumbled. “Leave it to the expert.”

Hawke nodded. She freed herself from Bethany’s hold, then began to strip off her armour. Ensuring her daggers were secured, she slipped off her boots and stepped to the balcony edge. The water glistened, and she bit her lip, mapping out a path. Then she took several sharp breaths, and dived into the pool.

Yara watched as she glided through, her shadow sending the light rippling. Soon she reached the vent and slipped through the narrow gap. A tense silence followed, and Bethany began to pace.

“She’ll be fine, Sunshine,” Varric said. “After all she’s been dealing with this stuff for two years, she knows what she’s getting into.”

“I know, but…” Bethany sighed, and shook her head. “I never realised how much danger she’d been putting herself in.”

“Yeah, I did wonder why she decided to keep so quiet recently,” Varric added.

“She didn’t want to worry either of you,” Fenris said, folding his arms. “Nor did she want further eyes looking into Corruption. The fewer who knew about it, the better.”

“Too late for that now,” Lahara said. “You’d hope all eyes would be on the Breach right now, but…”

The conversation was interrupted by a loud gurgle. Yara looked back to the pool. The left wall vent had opened, and the water level was falling rapidly. Soon there were only puddles across the floor, but the doors remained firmly shut. Dull footfalls echoed from the right-hand vent, and then a sodden-looking Hawke emerged. She waved, then wrung out her soaked shirt.

Bethany’s shoulders relaxed, and she vaulted the balcony railing. Fenris gathered Hawke’s armour, before following suit. Yara and Lahara too jumped down, landing onto the cracked tiles.

“You do realise there’s a ladder,” Varric called, opting to take the gentler route.

“You know we like to do things in style,” Lahara replied.

As Hawke redressed, the Herald strode towards the doors. Yara went after her, her eyes falling to the carvings. Three figures had been cut into the marble. One was undoubtedly male, his palms at right-angles and holding what looked like the sun. In the middle was a female warrior, her arms outstretched and surrounded by stars. The bottom figure, however, had been badly defaced. Almost nothing remained, apart from part of a crescent moon that would have hung over the figure’s shoulders.

“There’s writing here,” Lahara said. “Can you read it, Merrill?”

“Hmm.” Merrill scratched her chin. “They’re just names.”

“Names?” Yara repeated.

“The Creator, the Protector, and the…” Merrill squinted, trying to decipher the faded lettering. “Life…something?”

“But don’t elves believe in the Creators, plural?” Lahara asked.

“We do,” Merrill said, “but this isn’t the same. These are different gods. And you could substitute ‘Maker’ for ‘Creator’ if you wanted.”

“Maker? As in _The_ Maker?” Cassandra blurted.

“That can’t be right,” Hawke said. “Unless it means Andraste is a lot older than we think she is?”

“But what’s with the other two deities?” Lahara brushed her fingers over the carving. “It must be an older religion, one that could predate even the ancient elves.”

“Then this place must be one of the oldest on Thedas,” Bethany commented.

Yara frowned, studying the scratched part of the lower mural. It was a clear act of vandalism; a show of contempt to the deity depicted. She wondered who had been enraged enough to carry out such a blasphemous act.

“Anyway, theological discussion aside, any ideas on how to open this thing?” Varric asked.

Cassandra ran her hands along the carving, testing the door’s edges.

“It is too solid to break down,” she said. “There must be a mechanism we can release, or…”

Lahara suddenly yelped, grasping her left hand. The mark was flickering green.

“Maker, you’ve got to be joking…” She looked back to the chamber, drawing her staff. “Watch out!”

A bolt of green light ripped through the air, and the group scattered. The beam split into forks, tearing into the floor, and several Rage demons appeared.

Yara brought her blades forth, instinct taking over. The demon roared, throwing fire at her. Yara dodged the flames, then leapt, her sword cutting deep into the beast’s shoulder. Her dagger followed, severing its throat, and it floundered. Its flamed arm caught Yara’s wrist, and she yelped, forced to retreat. Her forearm stung, and she snarled, looking for another opening.

The demon charged, its body burning, when a volley of crossbow bolts thudded into its chest. For a second the fire calmed, and Yara took her chance. She plunged her sword into its belly, and finally it collapsed, returned to nothingness.

Cassandra grunted, boxed in by two demons. Sweat dripped off her forehead, and she raised her shield, already blackened with soot. Bethany made to cast, but nothing came from her staff. She swore.

“Damn it!” Lahara also tried to conjure a spell, but her staff remained lifeless. Her left hand, however, was flashing wildly. Eyes narrowed, she raised it towards the rift, bending the energies. Yara raced to Cassandra, slashing through the Rage demon on her left. At the same moment, the rift crackled, and the demons froze, temporarily stunned.

Cassandra let her fury take over, and she razed through the creatures. Yara helped finished them off, as Hawke and Fenris defeated the rest.

“Seal the rift!” Cassandra cried.

Lahara raised her hand again, pulling on the energies of the Fade. But something wasn’t right. The crystals did not shrink away. If anything, they grew more chaotic. Then another burst of green illuminated the chamber, and the bellow of an angry Pride demon rang out.

“Knew I should’ve stayed in bed this morning,” Hawke grumbled. Moment later she rolled aside, as an electric whip snapped towards her.

“Herald, Sunshine, Daisy, get clear!” Varric shouted. “You’re going to have to leave this one to us!”

The mages nodded, retreating towards the vent. Cassandra, Fenris and Yara stood shoulder to shoulder, determined not to let the creature break through. The Pride demon gloated, casting a shield around itself, before it lumbered forward.

Cassandra led the charge, her sword tearing through the magical barrier. Fenris followed, his broadsword finding an opening. Yara and Hawke ran around to flank the demon, their daggers tasting flesh. The demon bawled, raising its claws and releasing a pulse of electricity. The group yelped, thrown to the four corners. Yara slammed into the doors, howling as lightning blazed through her right arm. Her vision turned dark, and suddenly she was no longer in the chamber.

_A blaze of lightning tears through, almost turning the night to day. It consumes the undead before me, but it cannot tell friend from foe. Searing fire pours through my arm, and I scream, dropping to the ground. All I know is pain, and it is so hard to stay awake…_

_“…losing battle…return…another way…”_

A firm grip clasped Yara’s wounded arm, and she cried out, torn away from the flashback.

“Stay with us, Grim.” Varric’s voice. “This fight’s not over!”

He helped Yara to her feet, his hand coming away slick with blood. Yara groaned, only able to hold her dagger in her left hand. Fenris and Cassandra had regrouped, while Hawke circled the Pride demon, seeking a weakness. The demon was wounded, but still standing. Yara swallowed, bracing herself against the doors.

The moment her bloodied hand touched the stone, it abruptly turned warm. Light flooded across the carving, and Yara spun around. The three figures were now illuminated; even the damaged part, which now revealed a female hooded figure. She couldn’t admire for long, however, as the Pride demon screeched. Yara turned, to find it racing towards her.

She pushed Varric aside, then flung herself in the opposite direction, and the demon crashed into the doorway. The light broke free of the stone, becoming tendrils that bound the creature’s limbs. The Pride demon thrashed, but the hold was too strong. The brilliance spread, consuming the beast, and then it vanished in a flash of white. The carvings fell dead, and something clicked inside the doors.

“Let’s try this again,” Lahara said, reaching out to the rift. This time the crystals calmed, retreating into the portal, and finally the rift disappeared in a spark of jade light. “Thank the Maker for that!”

“What did I tell you, Herald?” Hawke said, scowling. “Yours is not a power we can afford to lose!”

“You don’t need to blame Corruption for that,” Lahara answered, shaking her left hand. “Some rifts attract more trouble from the Fade than others. And even though my normal magic is gone, you can see this still works.”

“Maybe, but for how much longer?” Hawke countered.

“Yara, are you alright?” Cassandra asked, hurrying to her side.

“Just a burn,” Yara replied, resting beside the door. The desperation lingered from the flashback, and she took a breath. It seemed Eliza’s potions had finally lost their effect.

“Let me see.” Bethany didn’t wait for Yara’s permission, bringing out a bandage and a vial of salve. Yara winced as the mage unbuckled her gauntlet, exposing the raw skin.

“Nice trick you pulled with the door, by the way,” Lahara said. “Mind showing me how you did it?”

“I’d like to know myself,” Yara murmured, staring at her bloodied handprint on the stone.

“It reacted to your blood,” Merrill commented, “but it’s not like any blood magic seal I’ve ever seen. Are you sure you’re not really a mage?”

“Even if she was, her powers would’ve been blocked like ours,” Bethany said. “There must be a lot of Corruption on the other side.”

“Then this is where you, Merrill and Lahara get off,” Hawke ordered. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Can’t be any more dangerous than those demons,” Lahara argued. “Besides, you’ll need me if another rift appears. I can still close them.”

“I’m not going to wait here to be attacked again,” Bethany said.

“Me neither,” Merrill added.

“Look, will you guys stop going round in circles already?” Varric sighed. “Hawke, you’re not going to deter them, and we’ve made it this far in one piece. Let’s just see this through to the end and be done with it.”

Hawke rolled her eyes, but said nothing more. Satisfied, Lahara walked to the doors and pushed them open, revealing a long corridor. This time the adjacent passages were sealed with enchanted glass, and there was no mistaking the black mist drifting behind them. The Corruption however remained well away from the glass, content to spiral upwards from a deep pit. Perhaps once it had been contained within stone, but that had long since corroded away.

“This looks promising,” Hawke said, studying the glass. “Then again it’s not like it’s actually touching the mist, so it might be just for show.”

“Even so, the Corruption is keeping to a predetermined path,” Cassandra said. “That would be enough for us.”

“I’m still not convinced letting this run rampant through the surface is a good idea,” Hawke answered, “even if we can make it follow directions.”

“Let’s check ahead,” Lahara said. “We might find something more reliable.”

Nodding, Hawke took the lead. Yara trailed behind, holding her right arm against her chest. They were close to something; she could feel it. She took a breath to calm her quivering pulse. It was still not too late to turn around…

A finger prodded her back, pushing her forward.

“No room for doubt anymore, Yara,” Lahara murmured.

The passage ended at a small room. It was mostly barren, made of granite rather than marble, and held a crumbling altar. Atop the latter stood a small statue of a goddess, bearing a scythe and winged helmet.

“Hmph, all that fuss for this little thing?” Hawke approached the altar, squinting at the statue.

“Hey, that lyrium idol wasn’t particularly impressive looking, and you saw what damage that did,” Varric said. “I’m hoping this isn’t going to be a repeat.”

“There’s no lyrium in that at all,” Merrill confirmed. “It is pretty, though.”

Bethany’s brow creased, and she strode to the altar. She picked up the statue, but apart from its worn edges, there appeared nothing special about it.

“Maybe it’s not as simple as it appears,” she said, placing it back on the altar. “I mean, someone clearly went to the trouble to keep it protected.”

“Got that right,” Lahara said.

“Perhaps it works like the door?” Bethany suggested. “So if Yara…”

The shriek of shattering glass silenced the rest of her words, and Yara’s eyes widened. She turned back to the exit, and swore. The enchanted barriers had smashed, and Corruption had started to encroach the passage, almost blocking it entirely.

“Get out of here, now!” Hawke shouted.

She bolted for the corridor, but then the black mist shuddered. Moments later a mass of black dust broke free, and it materialized onto the passage floor. The now-familiar horns and claws emerged, and the creature growled, gnashing its blackened teeth. All the while Corruption surged around it, starting to eat away at the marble.

“No!” Cassandra drew her blade. “I refuse to die here!”

She and Fenris went for the beast, tearing into its body. Their blows were merciless, but when the creature finally collapsed, it split into two. The black mist shimmered, and the dust began to twitch and sparkle. Then two creatures emerged from the shapeless mess, and made straight for the room. Hawke and Yara met their charge, while the mages retreated.

“Herald!” Cassandra cried, about to retreat, but a pulse of Corruption flooded through, cutting her and Fenris off.

“No, get out while you can!” Lahara shouted. “We’ll find another way out!”

“I will not leave you like this!” Cassandra protested.

“You have no choice!” Fenris said, grabbing her arm. “If we don’t get out now, we’ll all perish!”

Cassandra cursed.

“You must survive, Lahara!” she yelled. “For the sake of all Thedas!”

The ground began to crumble, and the two warriors sprinted back into the water-logged chamber. Hawke and Yara continued to hack at the dust monsters, desperately trying to get them to break apart.

“We can still fight!” Lahara said, swinging her staff like a polearm. She and Merrill leapt towards the second beast, forcing it into a corner.

“Yara, the statue!” Bethany cried. “Touch it, now!”

Yara grimaced. The moment had finally come…and she had no choice.

“Here!” She tossed her sword to the mage, before running to the statue. She ripped the bandage off her burned hand, setting the scabs bleeding, and grasped the cold stone.

The effect was instant. A wave of blinding light escaped the statue, sweeping through the mist creatures and Corruption behind like an invisible whirlwind. Then the statue glowed even brighter, and Yara screamed. The light began to travel through her hand and up her arm, and she couldn’t move. The brilliance spread through her neck, her chest, about to completely consume her.

Someone yelled her name, and the world turned to nothingness.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next couple of chapters are going to be slightly different to usual, just to warn you.

_Sweat sours my lip as I regroup with Alistair and Sten. The left side of my face is bloody, sticking my matted hair against my cheek, but I brush it aside. Every muscle aches, and I can barely hold my blades, but we are on the brink of victory. The Archdemon hisses, its deadened eyes upon us. Blackened blood pours from its wounds, soiling the sandstone beneath. It knows defeat is imminent, yet remains defiant to the last. It lets out a scream, calling its defenders, but such a rally will be in vain. I will make sure of it._

_“It’s wearing out,” Alistair comments, wiping his grimy face with his sleeve. “A few more blows will take it out for good!”_

_Sten grunts, grasping his broadsword, awaiting command._

_“Sten, Alistair, flank the Archdemon with the Dalish,” I order. I raise my voice. “Mages, archers, attack from above with everything you’ve got!”_

_A cry ripples through the survivors, and they brace themselves for this final assault. My eyes narrow, and I discard my dagger, taking my sword into both hands. The timing must be perfect, or my strike will count for nothing._

_Maker, I pray Morrigan was telling the truth…_

_“For Ferelden!” Alistair yells, and he breaks into a charge. Sten follows, and they are soon joined by the remaining Dalish warriors. The darkspawn surge, trying to protect the Archdemon, but they are cut aside like a farmer tending his harvest. Thunder, ice and fire rain from above, and the Archdemon bellows, caught in the blast zone. Arrows strike, steel rips through bone and flesh, and its wing breaks. There is no escaping now._

_At last an opening appears, and I bolt into the fray. The Archdemon can do nothing but stare, trapped amidst the fighting. My blade will be the last thing it ever sees. Fury consumes me, and I leap, my sword tight in my hands. Yelling, I push all my momentum forward, and my sword plunges between the Archdemon’s eyes._

_A sickening crunch rings out, its skull shattering from the impact. The shriek is unlike anything I have ever heard. It rears like a panicked horse, desperate to shake me off. Deafened, half-blinded, I focus all my strength into my arms, determined not to let go. My limbs jar, thrown around like a rag doll, but I hold on, pushing my sword deeper. Every jolt sends the blade twisting, and the Archdemon’s screams of pain are renewed._

_Finally it becomes too much, and I am thrown backwards. My jaw cracks against the ground, and I groan. The force carries me onward, my leg twists beneath me, and I roll over and over. My back crashes into one of the remaining battlements, and I howl, collapsing to my front. A coppery taste fills my mouth, and I spit out blood, finding the strength to raise my head. My leg screams with agony, and I cannot stand. But I do not need to._

_The Blight is over._

_The Archdemon’s eyes dim, and it lets out a mournful shriek. In the throes of death it sprawls out claw and wing, smacking into the ground with impossible force. The tremors ripple, tearing huge cracks through the stone. My eyes widen._

_No!_

_Desperately I attempt to crawl away, but my leg is a dead weight, and already the stones beneath are giving way. Slipping, I cry out, my fingers snatching at the disappearing ground. A splintered rafter comes to my hands, and I cling to it, dangling over emptiness._

_No, not like this…not like this!_

_“ELISSA!” Leliana’s voice, shrill and unnatural. A flash of red bolts between the fallen corpses, where the ground remains intact. She tosses her bow aside, her hand outstretched. She is right on top of me, if only I can…_

_Our fingers almost touch, but it is too late. The battlement collapses, and Alistair tackles Leliana before she is also caught. Stones shatter around me, and the rafter snaps. For a split second Leliana’s grey-blue eyes meet mine, her tears frozen on her cheeks, sheer disbelief spread across her features._

_Then the moment is over, and I am at the mercy of the wind. Everything is noise and pain, and screams are torn from my lips. A sharp blow strikes my head, and all I know is darkness._

* * *

 

“Ugh…”

Lahara’s eyes fluttered open, and she let out a whimper. Maker, that really _hurt_. Slowly her gaze came into focus, and she found herself staring at an emerald sky. She yelped, jolting upright. What happened to the caves, the temple…

She blinked, looking around. Now she was surrounded by distant mountains and spirals of glowing lyrium. Everything was bathed in jade light, and the air shimmered and rippled. That was when it finally clicked.

She was in the Fade.

Frowning, Lahara raised her left hand to her face. Her mark glowed brightly, stimulated by the energies, but it wasn’t quite solid. Thank the Maker; she was dreaming.

“Wonderful,” she muttered, pulling herself to her feet. Her mind was fuzzy, and she rubbed her eyes. Had she passed out from exhaustion? Or…

Suddenly the memories came flooding back, and she gasped. She’d been trapped in the ancient temple, the Corruption about to consume them. Then Yara had activated the strange statue, and had been overwhelmed with the white light. Lahara and Hawke had rushed to help, and then…

Lahara shook her head. The magic in that statue must’ve been potent if it had sent her through the Veil. Nonetheless, this was nothing she couldn’t handle. She had found her way out of the Fade many times before. This would be no different.

The Herald took a tentative step, followed by another, then fell into a steady pace. The path before her descended, and a deep chasm formed around her. There was no sign of Yara or Hawke, and she let out a breath. She hoped they were faring better than she was.

Whispers of curious spirits brushed her thoughts, and she fought the urge to look up. They were watching her every move, which meant the demons would be, too. She needed to get back to the real world quickly.

**_“…will help…finally free her from her burden…”_ **

Lahara froze. A male voice, so clear and resonant, not like the muddled chittering of the spirits above. But it wasn’t familiar.

**_“Anything…so she won’t be alone…”_ **

Now a woman’s voice joined in, and Lahara held her hands to her ears. It had to be a demonic trick.

“I don’t have time for this!” She took a breath, trying to concentrate. The chasm walls closed in, threatening to crush her, and she snapped her eyes shut. She had to remember, rekindle the connection to her body…

**_“…too strong! She’ll…won’t survive…stop!”_ **

Lahara gritted her teeth, sweat pooling at her brow. _Think about my breathing, my beating heart_ …

**_“…too late…the chaos…no longer…without a guide…”_ **

Her left hand began to pulse, and Lahara stared. It seemed to want her to walk further into the chasm. Frowning, she set off again, even though there was barely enough space to walk. Finally she could progress no further, and her mark grew brighter.

_“ **…take her place…can’t control…empty…”**_

Suddenly a spark of green energy left Lahara’s hand, and it tore open the stone. It was enough to drown the voices, and Lahara broke into a run, pushing every thought to her physical self. The dull ache in her arms and legs, the stale cavern air, the blueish light of the temple floors, the bitter taste of mana.

Just a little more…

**_“Lady Et…is dead.”_ **

* * *

 

Lahara groaned, jerking back into wakefulness. Cold steel numbed her cheek, and a sword pommel jabbed painfully into her knee. It took a moment to shake off the darkness, and her eyes returned to focus. She was a little way above the rocky ground, and it was moving of its own accord. Bile rose in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow. How was she…

That was when she realised she was being carried. She had been slung across Cassandra’s back, her jaw caught against the Seeker’s shoulder pauldron. The Herald winced, making to raise her head, and the nausea returned with a vengeance.

Cassandra halted, feeling Lahara move against her neck.

“Herald, you’re awake!” the Seeker breathed. “Thank the Maker!”

“Wish I wasn’t,” Lahara mumbled, slumping forward again. Her head was throbbing, her stomach churned, and for some reason her right hand was also sore.

“We are almost out of the caves,” Cassandra said, resuming her walk. “Then you can tell us what happened.”

Lahara managed a nod, though that was enough to aggravate her sickness. She turned aside, trying to find a comfortable position, when her gaze fell to the others. Her breath caught in her throat. Bethany carried a lifeless Yara on her shoulders, while Fenris held an unconscious Amber against his chest. Merrill and Varric followed, their faces tight with concern. The hairs on the back of the Herald’s neck prickled.

What in the Maker’s name…

It wasn’t long before they returned to the raw desert air. Lahara coughed, the sand irritating. They walked alongside the river, and soon the tents came in sight. Alistair was sitting by the campfire, but the moment he saw them he jumped to his feet.

“Maker’s breath, what happened?!” He raced to Bethany, taking Yara from her. The Warden didn’t even stir. “Yara, Yara!”

“She won’t wake up.” Bethany’s voice was quiet.

“And neither will Amber,” Fenris added, his voice hoarse.

“Lahara however seems to have recovered a little,” Cassandra said, entering the camp. “Perhaps she can tell us more.”

Carefully she laid Lahara onto an empty bedroll. Alistair and Fenris followed suit with their respective charges. Lahara closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the comfort, but then managed to sit up. A scout offered her water, and she gratefully took it.

Yara remained utterly still, bar her breathing, but Hawke’s brow twitched when Fenris took her hand. Bethany couldn’t take her eyes off either of them. She knelt between the two, her face ashen, and she clutched her hands so tight it left marks. Lahara’s gaze softened. Maker knew what was going through the mage’s mind.

Scout Harding fetched the healer, who came out of his tent carrying a first aid pack. He felt for Yara’s pulse, his brow furrowed, before examining her thoroughly. Yet apart from the lightning burn on her arm and a few scrapes, he could find nothing else. Then he turned his attention to Hawke, soon reaching the same conclusion.

“They appear to be stable,” he said at last, “for the moment.” He walked to Lahara, and she let him perform his checks. “As are you, Herald. However, I cannot explain why they slumber and you do not.”

“Clearly I have a better bedtime regime,” Lahara muttered.

Alistair snarled, storming over and grasping her shoulders.

“Start talking, Herald!” His voice was low. “And I better like what you have to say!”

“Whoa, calm down a second!” Lahara said, pushing him back. “I’m not even sure what happened myself. All I remember is being trapped by Corruption, reaching out to Yara, and next thing I knew I was somewhere in the Fade.”

Alistair bared his teeth. “If that’s the best you can come up with…”

“Warden-Commander, I will not tolerate that tone,” Cassandra said sternly. “We are as much upset about this as you are, but we must keep our heads if we are to help Yara and the Champion recover.”

Alistair closed his mouth, humbled. He released Lahara, and the Herald took a breath. Before she could speak again, however, her right hand burst with pain. She swore, clutching her burning wrist.

“Maker above,” she grimaced, “that’s not even the right…” A white rune appeared on the back of her hand, and her eyes widened. “…side?”

A collective gasp ran through the others; the same rune had appeared on Yara’s chest and Amber’s forehead. Bethany yelped, suppressing the sudden surge of mana in her hands. Fenris flinched, his own lyrium markings set off, while Merrill quickly dissipated the spell about to leave her staff. Cassandra, Varric and Alistair stared.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Lahara gawked at her right hand, the rune slowly disappearing. Her arms shook. “Two…bloody _two_ …I have _two of these sodding things now?!”_ She wanted to jump up and punch the cliff-face.

Maker, this had to be a bad dream…

“Whoa, did that little spark just remove the Corruption’s magic block on you guys?” Varric asked.

“Seems like it,” Fenris said, staring at his arms.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on, Herald?” Alistair shook his head. “Is this a new trick you’ve learned with your mark?”

“Hardly.” Lahara sighed, trying to compose herself. There was an explanation for this, surely. “But perhaps we should be asking our mage Warden that question.”

All eyes fell to Bethany, and she cowered into her knees. The Herald inwardly winced. As much as she sympathised with the mage, she could not afford to be soft with her.

“You knew about that statue from the beginning, didn’t you?” Lahara said. “Or at least, what was in it. And you also knew Yara was the only one who could activate it.”

“Yes.” Bethany kept her head bowed, her voice barely audible.

“So you lied to us!” Cassandra’s jaw tightened. “Dragging us out here under the pretence this would aid in closing the Breach, when all along…”

“Cassandra, not now.” Lahara held up her hand, and the Seeker fell silent. There would be plenty of time to throw accusations later. “Bethany, what in the Maker’s name did Yara unleash?”

The mage took a breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“The Shards of Andraste,” she said softly.

“The Shards of what?” Alistair raised a brow.

“I’ve not heard of that either,” Lahara mused, holding her right hand to her chest. “But with a name like that, no wonder it knocked us for six. It must be amazingly powerful.”

“But why did you keep it so quiet, Sunshine?” Varric asked. “Did you hide it from Grim, too?”

Bethany’s gaze fell to Yara, and she bit her lip.

“Yara knew,” she said at last, “but she didn’t want to find them. The only way I could make her was if I forced everyone else to come along as well.”

“And what did you hope to achieve through deceiving her, and us?” Cassandra growled.

“It was the only way she could get her memories back!” Bethany snapped. Her voice cracked, and her tears fell freely. “But I never wanted _this_!”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Alistair was at her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her. The mage trembled, her tears pattering onto Yara’s bandaged arm. A pang ran through Lahara, and she clenched her teeth, scowling at Yara. If the Warden hadn’t been so damn stubborn, then Bethany’s hand wouldn’t have been forced…and Lahara wouldn’t have a second divine mark to worry about.

“So, what do we do now?” Alistair asked, gently rubbing Bethany’s arm. “Is there any way to help them?”

“Well, if I ended up in the Fade, I’d bet these two are probably still wandering around in there,” Lahara said.

“A sound theory, but how did _you_ get back so quick?” Varric asked.

“My original mark helped me find a way,” Lahara said. “Also, I’m a mage. I know the short-cuts.” Her gaze fell to Yara and Hawke. “For someone not familiar with magic, though…”

“Then can’t you just go back and drag them out?” Alistair clenched his fists. “A Sloth demon did this once, and Eli…the Hero of Ferelden managed to free me and our allies from the illusions it created. And she wasn’t a mage.”

“Amber faced a demon like this, too, and she also escaped the Fade without the aid of a mage,” Merrill said.

“This isn’t the same as falling under a demon’s thrall,” Lahara stated. “They could be anywhere across the Veil, and given that _I_ didn’t see them, they could be in places where even demons fear to tread.” She rubbed her right hand. “Not to mention these runes are bound to have their own effects.”

“ _Fasta vass_ , so what do we do, then?!” Fenris clutched Hawke’s hand tighter. “I refuse to sit here and…”

“We get better information, that’s what,” Lahara shot back. “We need to return to Haven and talk to Solas. He’ll know what’s up. I hope.”

“Good plan,” Varric said. “After all, what he doesn’t know about the Fade isn’t worth knowing.”

“And I’m going back with you,” Alistair declared, his gaze falling to Yara. “Adamant can wait.”

Lahara gave a firm nod. “Then we’d better make a move.”

* * *

 

“Herald!”

Cullen ran from the training grounds of Haven, as Lahara and the group emerged from the bridge. His eyes fell to their unconscious charges, and his jaw dropped. “Maker, is that the Champion of Kirkwall?! How did you…”

“Get the soldiers to take Yara and Hawke to my quarters,” Lahara said curtly. “Then send Healer Eliza to them, along with any assistance she requests. We’ll give a proper explanation in due course.”

“I…yes, at once.” The Commander saluted, before shouting to the soldiers near the lake. The men scattered, and shortly returned bearing stretchers. Yara and Hawke were loaded onto them, then carried through the main gate. Alistair, Fenris and Bethany made to follow, but Lahara blocked their path.

“Let the healer do her job,” she said. “There’s not a lot we can do right now, and we’re only going to get in her way. Just make yourselves at home, and I’ll bring Solas up to speed and see what he has to say.”

“I will inform the others of what happened,” Cassandra said. “Perhaps they can dig deeper into these Shards of Andraste, and see if we can uncover any useful information.”

“Right.” Lahara nodded to Bethany. “You come with me, Bethany. I’m sure Solas will want to know whatever he can about these Shards, and you need to tell him whatever you can.”

The mage gave a slow nod, and Lahara sighed. Just when Bethany had been doing better, and now she was back to square one. The Herald brushed back her hair, and her right hand began to buzz. Lahara cringed, tucking her fist into her pocket. No need to draw too much attention to it, yet.

She led the way through Haven’s gate, climbing the hill to the infirmary, then headed right. They passed rowdy shouts from the tavern, stopping at another set of cabins. As usual, Solas was leaning against the door to his quarters, his arms folded. He raised a brow as the two approached.

“You seem troubled, my friend?” the elf mage commented, standing tall.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Lahara answered. “Care for a little chat, in private?”

Solas tilted his head, bemused, but opened the door to his cabin and let the pair enter.

“First, an easy one.” Lahara brought forth her right hand, the rune still sparking. “Does this look in any way familiar to you?”

Solas’s eyes widened. Speechless, he touched the back of the Herald’s hand. Lahara had to fight the urge to flinch; even such a light pressure was like a knife through her skin.

“You have gained a second mark?” he blurted.

“Excellent observation, Ser Obvious,” Lahara drawled. “Have you seen it before? Since you seemed to know so much about the other one.”

“I cannot say it looks familiar,” Solas answered, releasing her hand. “But how did this one come to you?”

“Long story,” Lahara said. “We came across a statue in the old temple, and…”

“ _Bethany Hawke, are you in there_?!”

Leliana’s furious voice broke through from the other side of the door. She didn’t wait for a response and threw it open, storming inside. Her grey-blue eyes were like daggers, and Lahara had to all but throw herself in front of Bethany.

“Whoa, Leliana, now is not the…”

“Silence, Herald!” Leliana shoved Lahara into the desk, sending the papers flying, then grabbed Bethany. She slammed the mage against the wall, not caring for the books knocked off the shelf above. Bethany let her head drop, making no move to defend herself. “This is all your doing and I will not stand for it!”

“Leliana!” Cassandra also appeared, entering the cabin. “There is no cause for such behaviour! You need to calm yourself, you still have no proof that Yara…”

“Was this your plan for revenge all along?” Leliana hissed, ignorant of the Seeker’s words. She pressed her fingers harder into Bethany’s arms, and the mage whimpered. “I thought you claimed to care for her!”

“Leliana, that’s _enough_!” Lahara snatched the spymaster’s wrist, casting an ice spell. Leliana yelped, her forearm frozen in solid white, and she was forced to release Bethany. Cassandra shot forward, grabbing Leliana and twisting her arms behind her, while Lahara wrapped her arm around Bethany, shielding her from further assault.

“I never wanted to hurt Yara,” Bethany murmured.

“That is no excuse for what you’ve done!” Leliana snarled. “If you hadn’t tricked Lahara into going to that temple, then Eli…” She caught herself just in time. “…then Yara wouldn’t have ended up like this! Now she might never awaken, and…”

Something sparked in Bethany, and she suddenly snapped her head up.

“You have no idea how much she’s been suffering!” she roared. “For _ten_ _years_ I’ve had to watch her fight to reclaim her past, and it’s taken everything from her!” Her hands shook. “I had to make her remember, and this was the only way!” She swallowed, fighting the quiver in her tone. “And if she remembered _you_ , then maybe she wouldn’t be so scared to love again!”

Leliana’s breath caught. She stopped struggling against Cassandra, and a tense silence fell. Lahara glanced between the two, uneasy.

Finally Solas cleared his throat.

“With due respect, would you mind continuing this altercation elsewhere?” he said, reaching for his fallen papers. “I do not feel my possessions have earned such wrath.”

Everyone blinked, broken from the moment.

“My apologies, Solas,” Cassandra said, tightening her grip. “Leliana?”

“…forgive me,” Leliana murmured. She managed to look at Bethany once more, but the hardness in her gaze had lessened. Sighing, she let the Seeker take her back outside.

Trembling, Bethany crumpled to the floor, her tears renewed. Lahara sighed, holding a hand to her head.

“You know what, Solas,” she said, crouching beside the mage and lifting her up, “I’ll come back later.”


	15. Chapter 15

Lahara sighed, for perhaps the eighth time that morning. She tilted her chair back, her feet propped on her desk, while Solas sat cross-legged between the still-sleeping Yara and Hawke. They were inside the Herald’s cabin, which had been turned into a makeshift observation bay. The elf mage had been deep in meditation for Maker-knew how long, but showed no signs of stirring. Eliza and her assistant Ryan also hovered, keeping a close eye on their patients. The room was silent, and Lahara closed her eyes. It had been three days since their return from the Western Approach, yet they had made next to no progress. This was the third time Solas had ventured to find them, but Lahara’s hopes were not high.

Her right hand tingled, and she raised it to her face. The rune glowed, stinging slightly, then faded. The Herald flexed her fingers, thoughtful. She had Inquisition scouts searching for information about the Shards, but dissent was growing between her advisors. Cullen and Cassandra wanted to abandon this avenue and approach the Templars for help, while Josephine insisted on appealing to the rebel mages. Leliana, however, was adamant the Shards were still worthwhile, although Lahara knew the real reason behind the spymaster’s eagerness. She wanted nothing spared to help Yara, and while Lahara was in full agreement, she could not ignore the building pressure to find a solution to the giant tear in the sky.

Yet one look at Bethany was enough for the Herald to forsake that aim in a heartbeat…

“That mark bothering you again?” Eliza asked, breaking Lahara’s thoughts.

“Eh, nothing I can’t handle.” Lahara brushed off the healer’s concern. “How are Yara and Hawke doing?”

“Still the same,” Eliza reported. She reached for Yara’s wrist, checking her pulse. Then she dug her knuckle into Yara’s breastbone, and the Warden groaned. Her arm flexed, trying to brush the healer’s hand away. But her eyes remained closed, and when Eliza stopped, all movement ceased. “See? Their subconscious responses work fine, and these ‘Shards’ even keep them sustained, but they just won’t wake up.” She shook her head. “Even when Yara was recovering from her accident, she was more rousable than this.”

“Right,” Lahara murmured. The healer had given her the full story, lending more weight to Yara’s true identity. The timings matched perfectly with the Hero of Ferelden’s ‘death’, and that had sealed the deal for Alistair and Leliana. Lahara also had an inkling Bethany shared their conviction, but the mage had not voiced her thoughts on the matter. In truth, she had not voiced much of anything since Leliana’s outburst. She hadn’t even come to visit Yara or her sister, and Lahara felt guilty she hadn’t made more of an effort to check on the mage.

That would certainly have to be rectified soon…

Solas grunted, opening his eyes. Lahara righted her chair, sitting forwards.

“Any luck?” she asked.

Solas yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“Sadly, I could not locate either of them,” he said. “However, this time I was able to pick up the Champion’s imprint, and that gives me hope.”

Lahara rolled her eyes. “For the metaphysically challenged…?”

“When one enters the Fade, your presence leaves a ‘shape’,” Solas answered. “A unique footprint, if you will, made up of all the experiences that encompass you as a being.” He slowly rose to his feet. “I finally found the Champion’s, and it led me to an area very deep within the Fade. Alas, before I could exactly pinpoint her location, she vanished.” His brow narrowed. “Almost as if she did not wish to be discovered.”

“Really?” Lahara scratched her chin. “What could that mean?”

“There are several possibilities,” Solas continued. “Hawke’s Shard of Andraste could be deliberately concealing her, which is what it seems to be doing for Yara. Or they might have attracted a spirit that is obscuring their presence.” He hesitated. “There is also the chance the Champion and Yara are hiding of their own volition, although for what purpose is beyond me.”

“Maker, I hope not,” Lahara groaned. She’d been banking everything on Solas, yet it seemed even his vast expertise could not help.

“Do not look so disheartened, my friend,” Solas said, stepping to her side. “This last encounter has pointed me to a possible solution.”

Lahara sat straighter.

“I’m all ears, Solas.”

Solas gestured to her right hand.

“There is a strong connection with your new mark and the ones Yara and the Champion bear,” he said. “Your power is part of a whole, and they call to one another. Such noise distorts the Fade, making it impossible for my tracking methods to work. But for you, I’m certain the noise would resonate, and you could follow the sound.”

“So use my rune as a noise compass, huh?”

“Precisely,” Solas said. “However, because your original mark also reacts with the Fade, there is a chance you could be caught between the two and lose yourself entirely.”

“And here I was expecting only good news,” Lahara drawled. “So, you’re telling me I can either sit here and let those two enjoy the biggest lay-in of the century, or dare to drag them back at the risk of disappearing into the Fade myself?”

“That is how the situation stands at the moment,” Solas said, “but there are ways to lessen the risk. I can teach you some techniques. They are not fool-proof, but it is better than going in with nothing at all. Outside of that, I fear nothing else can help them.”

“Finally, something I can work with!” Lahara beamed. “Thanks, Solas.”

“I must admit I am as much intrigued about these Shards as you are,” Solas said. “If we could reunite their power, perhaps it would be enough to fuel your other mark and close the Breach, too.”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lahara said, raising her hands. “Just tell me what I need to know, and we’ll take it from there.”

* * *

 

The frosty air numbed Lahara’s ears as she sauntered down the paths of Haven. The stars were out, and she licked her lips, tucking her hands into her jacket. She had spent the entire day with Solas, and was glad for a change of scene. His lessons had proven tough, and he’d forbidden any further rescue attempt until he was satisfied with her progress. Lahara loathed the delay, but she knew it was for her own sake. After all, she was the only person who could seal the Breach, so she was much too valuable to be lost. Of course, she had glossed over those details when updating her advisors, but she knew they would pounce on Solas for the full story.

Still, she’d deal with their inevitable protests later. Right now she had more important matters to attend. Nathaniel had mentioned Bethany was spending a lot of time at the stables, so that was where the Herald was heading. She was a little worried the mage might be planning to bolt, but Nathaniel had assured her otherwise. He himself was just as troubled, as Bethany refused to speak to him, and with his imminent departure to Adamant, he wanted to make sure someone was looking after her.

So now it was Lahara’s turn, and she was determined to make some headway. She pushed open Haven’s gate, and stepped onto the freezing plain. The breeze was harsher across the lake, so she hitched up her scarf. Ignoring the sparring soldiers, she turned and crunched through the snow to the stables. Sure enough, Bethany was sitting on the corral railing, watching the horses prance and shuffle.

Lahara paused, rapt with the sight of the mage. Her beautiful caramel eyes, her rosy cheeks, the soft curve of her jaw, the way the wind caressed her dark curls, how her lips were ever so slightly parted, so perfectly…

The Herald rapidly shook her head, forcing such thoughts away.

 _Maker, this is not the time_.

Clearing her throat—and hoping nobody else noticed how long she had been staring—she approached the corral. Bethany didn’t notice her, lost in her thoughts, until Lahara prodded her arm. The mage blinked, and she looked up.

“Lara?” She caught her breath sharply. “Did something…are they…”

“It’s alright, Yara and Amber are still hanging in there,” Lahara said. “But I’ve been worried about you, Bethany. You haven’t even been to see them, and you’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Bethany buried her face in her scarf, averting her gaze.

“You can’t still be blaming yourself,” the Herald said. “Leliana was completely out of order, and I’ve warned her what’ll happen if she pulls a stunt like that again.”

“But she’s right,” Bethany mumbled. “This _is_ all my fault.” Her eyes misted. “I should have let the past lie, instead of…”

“No, Beth,” Lahara broke in. “Amber and I shouldn’t have touched Yara when she activated that statue. If we hadn’t panicked and let the Shards work as they were supposed to…”

“Yara would be dead,” Bethany whispered. “And her blood would’ve been on my hands.”

“You can’t say that for sure.” Lahara held the mage’s shoulder. “Feeling guilty about what happened isn’t going to fix things, you know. And neither is avoiding the situation.” She let out breath. “I would know. I do enough of that myself.”

Bethany raised a brow.

“That’s not the impression I have,” she said. “You’ve faced everything the Inquisition’s thrown at you without breaking a sweat.”

Lahara gave a mirthless smile.

“I wouldn’t give me that much credit.” She leant against the corral rail, old memories prickling. “But I know what it’s like to hurt the ones you care about without meaning to.” She shook her head, a lump rising in her throat. “At least you’ve still a chance to make things right again. I never had that privilege.”

Bethany’s eyes widened. She slid off the rail, turning her full attention to the Herald.

“What happened?” she asked.

Lahara sighed. Perhaps it was time to give up some of her own history.

“I had an elder brother in the Circle,” she began. “I used to drive him up the wall, as any good sister should, but I got…complacent.” She sighed. “I was never a good student, you know. I preferred to laze around, annoy my tutors, that sort of thing. Joseph hated it, and always tried to get me to do something with my gift.”

She started to pace in front of the corral, suddenly restless.

“Then, after the rebellion at Kirkwall, tensions started to rise, and Joseph warned me what would happen,” she said. “He and some others were making escape plans, and they wanted me in. But of course I told him he was being a worry-wort and didn’t listen to a single word.”

The image of her brother’s face appeared, and Lahara shuddered. She’d made herself forget for so long, she hadn’t realised how much pain it still provoked.

“A few weeks later, the Ostwick Templars declared war,” she went on. “Even though none of us had allied with the rebels, we were labelled apostates and ordered killed. Joseph’s friends had fled earlier, but he’d stayed behind because of _me_.” She swallowed back the pang in her chest. “Every exit was blocked, so our only hope was to climb down from the top floor library. I went first, and Joseph was right behind me.” She hesitated, but only briefly. “Then a Templar appeared at the window, and he cut the rope.”

“Oh no!” Bethany gasped.

“I was already on the ground by then, but Joseph was far too high,” Lahara said, staring at the horses. “And there was nothing I could do. I didn’t even see where his body landed.” She swallowed. “I just slipped through the Templar ranks, and ran, and ran, and ran.”

She gazed skywards, looking to the Breach.

“That was all I did at first. I kept on the move, hoping someone would eventually step up and calm things down,” she said. “The years passed, until one day something changed. Suddenly I was tired of running, never taking responsibility. I wanted to do something useful for once, like Joseph always tried to encourage.” She licked her lips. “So I volunteered to attend the peace talks at the Conclave.” She gave a dry smile, rubbing her left hand. “And it seems I got my wish, in more ways than one.”

“Lara, I’m so sorry.” Bethany touched Lahara’s wrist, her eyes filled with empathy. A pleasant tingle ran up Lahara’s arm, and she tried not to focus on the mage’s warmth. “It must’ve been very lonely.”

“Maybe, but I got used to it,” Lahara answered. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Much more than me.” Bethany closed her eyes, her own memories stirred. “I lost my twin brother, too, in the Blight. But all I could do was wallow in guilt, and push everything onto Amber. I never realised how hard I made things for her.” She closed her eyes. “And I’m doing exactly the same now. Yara means everything to me, and I’ve just held onto my anger when she’s been hurting so badly.”

“Hey, Yara’s not entirely innocent, either,” Lahara said. “Whatever she’s been through, she had no right to treat you like she’s been doing. You’re not wrong to be mad.”

Bethany gave a soft chuckle.

“I suppose we never really argued before this,” she said. “We’ve been together so long, I can hardly imagine a time without her.” She traced her fingers across the corral railing. “I still remember when we first met. She was with a mercenary band then, and Amber and I helped her on a job. But when her boss ordered her to kill us, she saved my life, even when it meant she had no-one else left to trust.”

Lahara’s eyes widened.

“Wow, that was brave,” she commented. “If not that surprising, given what I’ve seen.”

“It was for me,” Bethany said. “Who would think twice about defending an apostate, much less one you barely knew?” She sighed. “So Amber and I took her with us on our expedition. Then I got infected with the Blight sickness, and what did she do? She gave up the chance to recover her memories and came with me to the Grey Wardens.” She swallowed. “Even now I don’t understand what made her do that. But I’d never have survived without her.”

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Lahara said quietly.

Bethany’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced aside.

“She’s always been a sister to me, even more than Amber,” she said. “She looked out for me, protected me, told me what I needed to hear, even if I didn’t want to.” Her voice trembled. “All those things I took for granted, because I never imagined anything would come between us.” Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “Maker, I miss her _so_ _much_!”

She broke down, and Lahara pulled the mage into her arms. Bethany buried her face into the Herald’s shoulder, holding tight.

“Oh, Beth.” Lahara gently stroked her back. The mage had been through so much; why was the Maker so cruel to her?

“I…I don’t want to lose them!” Bethany sobbed. “They’re all I have left, and…” She couldn’t finish, and Lahara hushed her, not caring for her soaked scarf.

“It’s alright, I’m going to bring them back.” Lahara clenched the fingers of her right fist. “This _thing_ on my hand is the key, and I’ll do whatever it takes to wake them up.” She lightly touched the mage’s cheek. “I promise.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Ready?” Solas asked.

Lahara nodded, making herself comfortable on her cabin floor. Solas sat opposite, taking up his cross-legged pose. Eliza and Ryan remained beside Yara and Hawke respectively, prepared for the worst. Fenris, Alistair and Leliana had begged to be present as well, but Eliza and Solas had refused. Neither needed further distractions if something went wrong.

“Then let us begin,” Solas said.

Lahara closed her eyes, steadying her breathing. Her left hand prickled, but she let herself drift, losing awareness of the discomfort. Every breath, every heartbeat, every sight, smell and touch of the world fell behind, and when she opened her eyes again, she was standing in the Fade. There was no chasm this time, only an endless plain, much like a dried lakebed. Solas appeared beside her, and he gave a nod.

“Good, you’ve mastered the transitioning well,” he said. “Now, can you show me your barrier?”

Lahara raised her hands, spreading her fingers. Both of her marks flashed, teased by the energies of the Fade, and a soft blue glow enveloped her. It would mask her presence, so she wouldn’t attract as much attention.

“Excellent, you certainly pick up things quickly,” Solas commended. “Alas, the rest is now up to you. Seek out the Champion’s imprint, then listen to the call of her mark. It should lead you to her.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Lahara said.

“If you run into trouble, send the distress call I taught you, and I will bring you back,” Solas said. “Be safe, my friend.”

“See you later, Solas.”

The elf mage bowed, before he retreated to the physical realm. Lahara let out a breath, swallowing down her tremors. It was all on her shoulders, now.

“Wish me luck, Beth,” she murmured.

She began to walk across the cracked ground, her footfalls sending ripples through the air. The disturbance fanned outwards, like a pebble cast into a lake, and Lahara held out her left hand, catching the waves of feedback. She sifted through them, testing for familiarity. Solas’s imprint lingered where he had been standing, although it was fading rapidly. There was also the hint of a few spirits who had come to watch. Lahara ignored them, stretching her senses further. More ghostly trails teased her, and her brow creased. The disappearing whispers of a Despair demon, the excited chittering of a spirit of Wonder…

And then she finally heard it.

_Have to hold on…won’t give up…protect my family…Uncle, what have you done? Beth, help me…too late…have to do something…don’t touch her! Saved my life…promise me…look after her, Yara…no, you don’t know…she’s going to die? I won’t lose…again!_

Lahara latched onto the echoes of Hawke; a beacon in the sea of distractions that kept pulling her away. She lifted her right hand, seeking the familiar magic.

_Expedition…statue…she’s all alone…better survive…tell me it’s good news…Mother…forgive me…she’s gone…madness is what it is…another blood mage…he’s come back for you? I can’t…please don’t take her from me as well…_

The utterances bounced off Lahara, meaningless and infinite. The Herald gritted her teeth. It was all superficial noise, masking what she needed to find. What had Solas said? Listen to the rhythm, not the words…

She took a breath, trying to filter out the muddled stream-of-consciousness. It was so difficult to stop her mind processing the language, but Lahara began to hum, like a singer tuning her voice. She wanted to catch the chords, not the melody.

Suddenly her rune awoke, brought to life by the song. Lahara kept her eyes closed, still singing as her new mark stripped away the chaos and revealed the true fibre of Hawke’s being. Almost, almost, just a little…

_There!_

Her eyes snapped open, and Lahara broke into a run. Her right hand glowed, leading the way to Hawke’s location. Distance was impossible to judge, but the Herald didn’t care. She’d found the path, and she would follow it to the end.

A fissure tore through the plain, and Lahara let herself fall, entering a valley. She hit the ground, still running. The walls turned to mountains, towering higher and higher, before they twisted apart and bloomed into dense forest. Branches and iridescent leaves skimmed over Lahara’s shoulders, but she didn’t slow. With no sun or stars to take her bearings, her head spun, but the pulse of white light never wavered. Surely she had to be close by now…

The bawl of a Rage demon broke through, and Lahara yelped. She skidded to a halt, and the creature vaulted from the ground. Snarling, Lahara thrust her hand forward. A giant icicle left her palm, and it slammed into the demon. It screeched, impaled against a tree. Lahara didn’t bother to finish it off; the light from her rune was dimming. No, she couldn’t lose it!

Frantic, she reached out again, humming the now-familiar rhythm. The faint thread of light returned, and she poured every ounce of concentration onto it. She started jogging again, and the forest fell behind. The last of the trees vanished, and strange ruins emerged in their place. A crumbling cathedral stood in the centre, surrounded by roofless houses, cracked pillars, and a whole host of debris. Lahara studied the mess, chewing her lip. If she didn’t know any better, she would have assumed a fire had destroyed this place.

But fire didn’t exist in the Fade…

Her rune flickered, and she grasped her wrist. The light trails were disappearing; she’d come to their end. That meant Hawke had to be around here, somewhere. Wiping her brow, she strode through the fallen buildings, cupping her hands to her mouth.

“Amber? Are you there?”

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she jerked her head round. A shadow disappeared into an alley, and without thinking she chased after it. However, she was forced to stop at a dead-end. There was no sign of anything, spirit or otherwise.

“Come on, give me a break!” Lahara groaned, kicking the ground. Maker, she was so close!

Sighing, she turned back to the main path. Clearly this was going to be the hard part. She strode forward, renewing her shouts, when the wall on her left suddenly shook. Lahara jumped back, a spell at her fingertips. The bricks shuddered, and finally a black creature broke through. It was vaguely humanoid, but its arms were much too long, and it had no eyes. It clawed through the rubble, hissing and gasping, then leapt at the Herald.

Lahara threw a fireball, but the flames did nothing to stop the creature’s momentum. It bowled into her, and Lahara cried out, smacking into the ground. She grabbed its neck, trying to choke it. The creature flailed. Its claws thrashed, cutting into Lahara’s leg, and she dug her fingers deeper.

_Just…die…already!_

A new cry tore through the emptiness, and the pressure on Lahara’s ribs vanished. She sprang to her feet, another spell ready, as a blur of red and black tangled against the creature.

“Amber!” Lahara raced to help, but Hawke had the situation under control. She stabbed her daggers through the beast’s head, and it stopped struggling. Smirking, the rogue removed her blades, and the creature faded into mist.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” she said, rising to her feet. “Took you long enough, Herald.”

“Um, excuse me?” Lahara spluttered. “Do you realise you’ve been unconscious for almost two and a half weeks?”

Hawke’s jaw dropped.

“Andraste’s ass, I’ve been here that long?!” she blurted.

“You didn’t know?” Lahara blinked. “You’re all cosy in my quarters back at Haven, along with Yara. She hasn’t woken up, either.”

Hawke swore, running her hands through her hair.

“Maker above, that’s the trouble when there’s no night and day to tell the time,” she growled. “But it took me ages to find this place, and I’m not leaving without Yara.”

Lahara caught her breath. “She’s here, too?”

“Sort of,” Hawke said. “Do you want the long or short version?”

“A version that makes sense will do just fine,” Lahara scoffed.

“Right,” Hawke said. “Follow me.”

She led the way into the heart of the ruins. Lahara followed, half-tempted to slap the Champion senseless. It seemed she’d been fully capable of finding her own way out of the Fade, so had worried everyone for nothing. On the other hand, it looked like Yara was in deep trouble, and so it was noble of Hawke to have remained to save her.

But she could’ve at least told someone…

Hawke stopped by the cathedral. Its dome had caved in, and every wall was cracked. Its main entrance was blocked with rubble, but Lahara could see through the gaps, noting what looked like an enormous gate inside. A sudden foreboding rose in her chest, and she swallowed.

There was something very, very wrong here.

“I see you’ve been given the same treatment,” Hawke said, pointing to the rune on Lahara’s hand. The rogue closed her eyes, and the same rune flickered on her forehead. “Twenty silvers says Yara’s got one, too.”

“She does, on her chest,” Lahara answered, “back in the real world, anyway.” She sighed, scratching the back of her right hand. “It’s what let me find you.”

“It’s what let me find Yara, too,” Hawke said. “After we tried to help her, I woke up somewhere in the Fade. My initial plan was to get out, but then this…” She tapped her forehead. “…had other ideas.” She let out a breath. “And the first thing it showed me was these ruins. Then I heard Yara crying for help, so I came running.”

“What is this place, anyway?” Lahara asked.

“If it has a name, I don’t know it,” Hawke admitted. “But there are things around here that make me suspicious of what it could be.”

“Like what?”

“Take a look.” Hawke pointed to the cathedral archway. Lahara squinted, catching ancient letters beneath the charred stone.

“What’s so special about that?” the Herald asked.

“It’s ancient Tevene,” Hawke answered. “And the demons here are nothing like the rest of the Fade, as you saw. In fact, wouldn’t you say they look a little like darkspawn?”

Lahara’s eyes widened.

“No way, you’re not suggesting that…”

“…we’re sitting in the ruins of the Black City?” Hawke finished.

“But that’s impossible!” Lahara shook her head. “It’s completely unreachable, and I don’t see any throne, either. It has to be a fake, or something else.”

“Legends aren’t always correct,” Hawke countered, “and Maker knows the Chantry likes to bend the truth.” She nodded to the cathedral again. “Anyway, I also found a strange gate in there, and that was where I heard Yara’s voice. But I can’t get it to open.”

“Hmm, maybe I can help with that,” Lahara replied. “Solas taught me a few tricks, and I managed to find you, after all.” Her voice hardened. “But _you_ need to get out of here. You’ve spent far too long in the Fade, and everyone is tearing their hair out over you.”

“I’ll be more than happy to see the back of this place when I’m sure Yara is alright,” Hawke argued. “I’m not abandoning her.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Lahara said. “But you have to let me take over. If you stay any longer, you could make things a lot worse for yourself.”

Hawke sighed. She was silent for a moment, thinking over the Herald’s words.

“Alright,” she said at last. “If we can get the gate to open, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?” Lahara said.

“Yup,” Hawke grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She stood up, and Lahara followed her to the back of the cathedral. After squeezing through the narrow corridors, they entered the main hall. Now Lahara could appreciate the towering pillars inscribed with ancient glyphs. They were brimming with unseen energy, and Lahara could taste the mana on her tongue. The stone was also splattered red, and the scent left no mystery as to what had coloured it that way.

A ripple of memory caught Lahara, and she raised her left hand. It was very frail, no more than a whisper across her thoughts.

_Need power…break through…the Veil…stripped away…nothing left…march to victory…empty, why is it empty…blood, more blood!_

“Lara?” Hawke shook the Herald’s shoulder, and she blinked.

“Maker, your theory might not be so far-fetched after all,” Lahara said, staring at her hand. “But this isn’t the Black City.”

“Oh?”

“This is the remains of the site where the ancient Tevinter magisters opened their portal,” Lahara answered.

Hawke’s eyes widened.

“Then that means _this_ …” She gestured to the gate, “…is the entrance to the Black City!”

“How in Andraste’s name did Yara end up there?” Lahara murmured. “You know, I’m having second thoughts about opening this now.”

“Why?” Hawke asked. “Yara’s stuck on the other side, we have to get her out!”

“We won’t be much help if we end up turning into darkspawn!”

“Oh, don’t believe that old wives’ tale,” Hawke spat. “My rune’s shown me otherwise. And besides, if Yara can still call to us, she’s definitely not a darkspawn.”

“Sure, trust a mysterious ancient magic we’ve never even heard of over a good few centuries’ worth of Chantry lore,” Lahara grumbled. “How do you know it’s really Yara, anyway?”

“If you want to turn back, my dear Herald…”

_Please…I can’t…help me!_

Both Lahara and Hawke jumped, their runes also set off. Lahara gasped, staring at her right hand.

“Maker, that was _her_!” she exclaimed.

“Uh huh,” Hawke said. “So, still having second thoughts?”

Lahara shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“That’s more like it,” Hawke said. She gestured to the gate. “Shall we?”


	17. Chapter 17

Hawke and Lahara faced the twin pillars, studying them carefully. They were made from scarred obsidian, and towered almost to the ceiling. Lahara held a hand to her chin, noting the placement of the glyphs amidst the splatters of blood. There were twelve in total, unlike anything the Herald had ever seen, yet at the same time she could’ve sworn they were familiar. The back of her right hand prickled, and she rubbed it absently.

“I’m guessing it took a lot of blood magic to activate this,” Hawke commented, eyeing the red stains. “I’m hoping we don’t need that kind of power.”

“Considering we’re not physically crossing over, I wouldn’t think so,” Lahara replied. “I mean, Yara’s not even a mage and she managed to find a way through.”

“Or something was powerful enough to drag her across from the other side,” Hawke mused. “Either way, I’ve tried everything I can think of and nothing works.” She flicked the stone with her finger. “Can you use that memory trick to give us a clue?”

“I can’t look for something so specific,” Lahara said. “All I get are drifts and echoes, which don’t make much sense anyway. Besides, we already know how the magisters did it, and we can’t do it the same.”

“Ugh, Yara never likes doing things the easy way, does she?” Hawke rested her hands on her hips. “She’s going to get the chewing out of her life when I see her again.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Lahara said, clenching her fist. The Warden had misbehaved for long enough, and it was high time someone smacked some sense into her.

“Heh, Beth might get upset if we don’t leave a piece for her,” Hawke smirked. “And you _know_ you’ve messed up if you’ve made her mad.” She shook her head, gazing at the gate. “Sometimes I wonder if Yara knows how lucky she is. I would’ve done anything to keep Beth by my side.”

 _Oh, she knows_ , Lahara thought sadly. S _he’s just too stubborn to admit it._

She raised her hand, reaching for the right-hand pillar. Abruptly her rune surged with light, and Lahara gasped. Hawke’s Shard was also set ablaze, and they stared at the gate.

_Why...won’t you...leave me...don’t want...please...can’t...disappear...you’ll..._

Yara’s voice died away, and so did the light. Lahara winced, clutching her hand. Hawke pressed her palm to her forehead, grimacing. For a moment the glyphs also sparkled, but the obsidian quickly fell lifeless again.

“Hmm, looks like she heard us.” Lahara glanced between the glyphs and her hand, chewing her lip. “And I’m starting to wonder if our Shards might be the key.”

“‘Shards’?” Hawke repeated.

“Bethany said these strange marks were called the Shards of Andraste,” Lahara explained. “It was meant to give Yara her lost memories back. But anyone can see they’re bursting with more power than a Templar on a lyrium rush.” She tapped the gateway pillar, and the glyphs flashed once more. “Yara’s Shard must have triggered this to open, so we should be able to get ours to do the same.”

“Seems as good a bet as any,” Hawke said, “but as you might have noticed, I don’t have nearly as much control over mine as you do yours.”

“Not to worry, I can work around that,” Lahara said. “Just follow my lead.”

She walked to the nearside pillar and placed her right hand on the stone. Hawke raised a brow, but copied her gesture on the opposite pillar.

“Try to picture Yara as clearly as you can,” Lahara said. “Her looks, her voice, her mannerisms, everything. I’ll do the rest.”

“You’re the boss.” Hawke closed her eyes, concentrating. Lahara did likewise, shifting her focus to her right hand. Her plan was little more than a stab in the dark, but if she could trace the Champion’s memory of Yara, it would hopefully cut the background noise and lead straight to the real thing.

The Herald’s rune pulsed, finding the rhythm of its sister Shard. It was much easier to sense Hawke’s imprint now she was so close, but Lahara pushed further, trying to tease out a different harmony.

_So desperate...almost have enough...Bartrand will be begging...what now...they’re in danger! Can’t turn your back...she’ll learn soon enough...help them...he promised...liar! I don’t like this...let her go! She’s not like them...she...saved us..._

The pillars began to vibrate. Lahara’s right hand burned, but she bit back the pain, humming to maintain her link. Hawke’s memories solidified, and Lahara could see Yara as she was nearly a decade ago. She was standing above a dead mercenary, comforted by a younger Bethany.

The first time they met...

_Take her with us...won’t abandon...given up everything...will try...know what she’s getting...find the maps...another Warden...kept it from us..._

Hawke’s essence began to fall behind, and a new song called to Lahara. The Herald changed the pitch of her voice, matching the altered notes. Then the unfamiliar melody took over, leading her to a whisper of a trail.

_Darkspawn! Felt...killed...why is she...the Taint...doesn’t deserve...Justice…reveal…but...alone...go back...my fault...survive..._

Lahara seized onto the fragmenting thoughts, but Yara slipped away. She was so much harder to grasp, her presence so much weaker, as if...

Abruptly the gate erupted into life. Its glyphs blazed with light, and lightning began to spark between the pillars. The obsidian turned white-hot, and Hawke yelped, snatching back her hand. Lahara gritted her teeth, her face pooling with sweat. Despite the fire at her palm she clutched the pillar, her arm shaking. She couldn’t give up.

_Undead...army…undead...will consume...the Arl...death...defenceless...send for...mages...they’re coming! Can’t hold...can’t choose...won’t let...took...shot...don’t make me...no time...they hate..._

Lahara scowled, trying to dispel the new distortions. Something _else_ was mimicking Yara, stealing the Herald from the true path. Its chorus grew louder, drowning out the original song. Lahara swore. No, she had to focus! If she lost the Warden again…

_The light...so blinding...salvation...she’s with...don’t leave...nearly over...won’t...die..._

The air turned thick and choking, and the cathedral rumbled in its foundations. Hawke yelped, dodging a piece of falling roof.

“Lara, stop!” she shouted. “You’re...”

_The heart of brilliance...hurts...but hope...she...always believed..._

_I...just want..._

_“Lahara Trevelyan, return to me at once!”_

Lahara cried out, suddenly severed from the connection. She lost her hold on the pillar, and Hawke, the gate, the cathedral, and sky all melted away. The ground disappeared, and she was torn through the Fade at impossible speed. Yelping, she ripped back through the forest, mountains and valley, and finally she was thrown back into her body.

Her eyes snapped open. The cabin ceiling stared back, and the floorboards dug into her spine. She was lying on her back, drenched in cold sweat and breathing like she’d run a marathon. Eliza sat behind her, supporting her head and holding a strange mask over her mouth and nose. Solas was also at her side, his brows knotted, and firmly gripped both of her hands.

Lahara lay there for a long moment, stunned by her newfound weakness. Her throat was raw, her chest burned, and she could barely lift a finger. She felt Solas release her, and she closed her eyes, drawing on her mana reserves to regain her strength. Maker, what in the world…

Eventually her breaths calmed, and the ache in her limbs lessened. She made to sit, and Eliza removed the mask, helping to support her. Lahara blinked, rubbing her watering eyes.

That was when it all came rushing back. Eyes wide, she pushed Eliza away, grabbing Solas by the collar.

 “Maker’s…what...the hell...did you do that for?!” she croaked. “I almost...had Yara! I could’ve…”

“You _stopped breathing_!” Solas shot back, removing himself from her hold. “You pushed so far into her memory that you lost your link to your body! You nearly killed yourself!”

Lahara froze.

“…what?”

Solas rubbed his temple. “You traced Yara’s imprint too far, Lahara. If you had remained there a moment longer...”

“Aw...give...her...a break,” a new voice rasped.

Lahara caught her breath. She turned to Hawke’s bedside. The rogue’s eyes were open, although they were still quite sunken. The Champion lifted her hand, flashing a thumbs-up, before slumping back to the mattress. The rune on her forehead glowed for a moment, then vanished.

“Amber!” Lahara tried to reach her, only to promptly fall back down again. Her legs were still like jelly, her muscles stiff and sore. Eliza took her by the shoulders, and gently laid her on the floor.

“You need to stay still,” she ordered, pushing a spare pillow under the Herald’s head. “Your magic might be helping a little, but you’re not in good shape.”

Lahara grumbled to herself. Nonetheless, she didn’t argue as Eliza drew a blanket over her, and performed a thorough check. Once satisfied, the healer turned her attention to Hawke. Ryan was helping the rogue to sit, offering her some water.

“You have still done a remarkable thing,” Solas said, kneeling by Lahara’s side. “You were able to not only travel the far reaches of the Fade, but also bring back a lost soul. That would take even a most skilled mage years to learn.”

Lahara’s jaw tensed.

“I’m flattered Solas, really,” she said, “but one out of two isn’t good enough.” She braced her right fist. “Once I’m feeling better, it’s full steam ahead. I know where Yara is now, and...”

“You will do no such thing,” Solas countered.

Lahara blinked.

“What? Why? After all you’ve...”

Before she could continue, Solas reached forward and touched her left hand. The green mark flared, and Lahara flinched, an icy sensation running up her arm. Moments later her vision swam, and she clutched her forehead, suddenly nauseous.

“What the hell...did you do?!” It was an effort to get the words out, her mind felt so fogged.

“Making sure you stay grounded,” Solas answered curtly. “I have blocked your Fade-seeking ability for the time-being.”

Lahara hissed. “ _Solas,_ you…undo this…right now, or…I swear I’ll...”

“I do not think you understand how unstable your Shard truly is.” Solas’s voice was grave. “I did not realise before, but it is deeply entwined within you, and it does not care where you end and its sisters begin. It only wants to be whole again. You were fortunate with the Champion, since you found her without drawing too much power. But if you track Yara like that again, the Shards will merge the two of you into one being, and you will _both_ disappear.”

His words were like anvil blows, and Lahara fell into a stunned silence. He had to be exaggerating, surely.

“But...I almost...”

“This is not a matter up for debate.” Solas stood, turning his back to the Herald. “Your Warden comrade is not worth this. Do not forget, you are our only means to combat the Breach. And a leader needs to know when to cut their losses before the damage is irreparable.”

He walked out, and Lahara cursed. She tried to sit up, but all it did was make her headache worse. She winced, sinking back to the floor and biting her lip. As much as she wanted to set the elf mage alight, she couldn’t deny his sombre warning. She hadn’t even noticed anything wrong with her physical self, and it was starting to hit how close she’d come to never waking up at all.

And if Solas was right, she’d almost led Yara to the same fate.

“Thank the Maker!”

The cabin door swung open, and heavy steps rushed inside. In moments Fenris was at Hawke’s side, clutching her hand as if she would evaporate.

“You’re back, you’re really back!” His voice broke, and he pressed the rogue’s fingers to his forehead.

“Fenris…it’s okay,” Hawke whispered, squeezing his palm in kind. “Takes more…than some…weird magic…to best me…right?”

Fenris managed a tight smile. Before he could continue, however, Eliza cleared her throat.

“Visiting hours are over for today,” she said, nodding to the doorway. “The Champion’s not going anywhere, but she needs proper rest. You understand, right? You can come back later.”

“Ah, of course, my apologies,” Fenris said, a slight blush tinging his cheeks. Reluctantly he released Hawke, before he turned to Lahara. He bowed deeply. “I am in your debt, Herald. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lahara answered.

“Tell…Beth…not to worry,” Hawke murmured. “And Varric…and Merrill…”

“Save your strength. I will let them know,” Fenris said. “Maker speed your recovery, both of you. And I pray Yara will soon return to us, as well.”

With a parting clasp of Hawke’s wrist, he turned and strode out of the cabin. As the door closed, Lahara sighed, resting her forearm across her face. Her left hand tingled, and she let her eyes close. She might have brought the Champion back, but now the very same power could either deliver or destroy Yara. And there was no way of knowing which way the pendulum would swing if the Herald tried again.

But Solas was wrong about one thing; Lahara’s life was not worth more than Yara’s. The Warden had a good heart, and deserved to be fought for. Yet with Lahara’s Fade-seeking tempered, she wouldn’t be able to sense any imprints, and that meant she had no means to rediscover the gate.

So much for her promise to Bethany…

“You’ll...burst a blood vessel...scowling like that,” Hawke whispered. “Don’t…give up.”

Lahara let out a breath. “I don’t want to, Amber, but I’m out of ideas. I think Solas has this round.”

“But...you were onto...something...back there,” Hawke replied. “Maybe...you just need...stronger memories of Yara...something that will...make her...stand out.”

“I’m still waiting for the mark that lets me do the time travel thing,” Lahara answered dryly.

“Not... _your_ memory,” Hawke went on. “You...used mine, right? But I...don’t know Yara...that well. So what if...you asked...Bethany? Then perhaps…you wouldn’t…have to use…the Shard…so much.”

A light flickered in Lahara’s mind, and her eyes widened.

It was time for plan C.

* * *

 

Lahara paced the Chantry’s main hall, listening to the howling wind outside. It had just gone past midnight, and the blizzard was reaching fever pitch. Heavy snow lashed against the doors, and the Herald let out a breath, hoping the weather wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

She rubbed her hands together, her fingers numb with cold. Her marks remained quiescent, and she licked her lips. It had taken a couple of days to get back on her feet, but the turmoil from her exploits had yet to settle. Everyone was relieved Hawke had awoken, however many were bitter that Yara had not been so lucky. Solas had not been shy to voice his concerns, either, and that had sent ripples through the Herald’s advisors.

Lahara shivered. She glanced to the meeting room, recalling their heated exchange earlier. Leliana remained on her side, but it was still three against two. Cullen, Cassandra and Josephine had made clear that Lahara’s priorities needed to change, and she’d been forced to pick between the Templars and mages as allies. Given her past encounters, she’d not hesitated to choose the mages, and Josephine had immediately sent runners to the Grand Enchanter at Redcliffe. Lahara knew that on their return she’d be dragged out faster than she could say ‘Herald of Andraste’, and there would be no hope for Yara then.

Tonight was her last chance.

The Chantry door groaned, and Lahara looked to the entrance. For a moment the hall was filled with the biting breeze, and then all fell silent again. The heavy oak creaked back into place, and footsteps approached. The candle light danced off the figure’s cloak, and she lowered her hood. She scrubbed snow from her hair, before her caramel eyes met the Herald’s.

“You wanted to speak to me, Lara?” Bethany broke the quiet, her face a mix of curiosity and hope.

Lahara managed a relieved smile. The mage seemed to be faring better, at least. No doubt Hawke’s return had helped immensely.

“Yes,” the Herald answered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry to drag you out here on such a miserable night, but I can’t let the others catch us talking. They’ll only try to stop me.”

“So I’ve heard,” Bethany said. “But is Solas telling the truth?” Her voice faltered a little. “Did you really...almost...”

“Eh, I might’ve overdone it a little,” Lahara said, trying to act nonchalant over her near-death experience. “But a couple days’ rest and I’m just fine, as you can see.”

Bethany smiled.

“I still can’t thank you enough for bringing Amber back.” She took an uneasy breath. “But you’re taking too many risks, Lara. You shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake.”

“By the Maker, I thought we talked about this?” Lahara rolled her eyes. “Look Beth, I know what I’m dealing with. And like it or not, these Shards are a part of me as well. I’m not going to throw in the towel because someone else thinks I’m not up to it.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re up to it,” Bethany murmured. “You have other things to be dealing with, and…”

“The Inquisition’s opinion on what I _should_ be doing right now can wait,” Lahara scoffed, waving her hand. “I might not have known Yara as long as you, but I consider her my friend, too. She doesn’t deserve to be abandoned.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I didn’t call you here to argue about this. If I’m going to have a chance at finding Yara again, _safely,_ I’m going to need your help.”

Bethany stood straighter. “Okay. What can I do?”

“I’m going to need your memories of her,” Lahara went on. “When I found Amber, I tried to use her memories to reach Yara, but they weren’t strong enough. So I had to resort to my Shard.” She held up her right hand. “That however proved too unstable, hence Solas having his smallclothes in a twist.”

“But how will that help?” Bethany asked. “You’ll still have to use the Shard to find Yara. And I’m not doing anything that puts your life in danger again.”

“I won’t _be_ in any danger if I do it this way,” Lahara countered. “If I can use your memories as a starting point, I won’t have to draw on the Shard’s power to make a match. I won’t…”

“You will still fail.”

A new voice joined them, and Lahara and Bethany spun around. A woman with a lilac hood was emerging from the rear chambers, surveying them with her grey-blue eyes. Lahara raised a brow, subconsciously stepping in front of the mage.

“Oh, so we’re an expert on Fade-seeking now, Leliana?” the Herald asked.

“You think I have been merely wallowing in my own misery since you returned?” Leliana huffed. Bethany’s cheeks flushed, and the mage looked away. “I have been researching myself, but if you do not care to listen, I’m sure Cullen and Josephine would like to know of this discussion…”

“Alright, no need to go there,” Lahara said, raising her hands. “It was a genuine question. And you wouldn’t spill the beans on us, anyway.”

“So why won’t my memories work?” Bethany asked, her curiosity overcoming her shame.

Leliana took a breath.

“There is a reason Lahara cannot sense Yara as easily as she did the Champion,” she said. “And that is because neither of you know her as she truly is. You’ve been looking for the parts you’ve seen, not the parts unseen for almost a decade.”

Lahara’s eyes widened. “You mean who she was before?”

“Yes,” Leliana said. “And if you require memories, you will need more than what Bethany can provide. You will need me, as well.”

“But we don’t know for absolute certainty that Yara was... _is_ Elissa Cousland,” Lahara said. “What if…”

“She can be no-one else!” Leliana’s voice echoed, and her cheeks reddened. “Everything fits too perfectly. The time she arrived at the healer’s, her old mabari hound recognising her, her Warden pendant, how she reacted when…” She cut herself short, raising her hand to her chest. “Lahara, I can’t give solid proof, but I know it’s _her_. You just have to believe me. You won’t be able to find her otherwise.”

Lahara sighed, folding her arms. This discussion wasn’t new to her. Still, it was such a slim thread to go on, and Maker knew what would happen if the spymaster turned out to be wrong. However, as Lahara thought back to when she’d traced Yara’s Shard, she remembered another presence that had tried to cut through. Perhaps it had not been another presence at all, but the part of herself the Warden had forgotten.

“Please.” Leliana’s grey-blue eyes were begging. “I want nothing more than Yara returned to her old self. I would pursue any avenue, no matter how slight the chance of success, no matter how high the risk. It’s not fair for me to ask the same of you, but…”

“Come on, Leliana, do you really think I’d refuse?” Lahara said. “I’m not going to get another shot, and I’ll take anything that’ll give me the best chance of success.”

She stepped aside, so that the spymaster and Bethany faced each other. “But first, I think you owe Bethany an apology.”

“Lara…” Bethany made to protest, but the Herald raised her hand.

“No, she is right,” Leliana said. “This is not the first time I have acted so unjustly towards you, and I have yet to make amends even for that.” She clasped her hands and bowed her head. “I am truly, deeply sorry, Bethany. I…my anger made me quick to judge. As it always seems to when it concerns you.” She took a breath. “I simply did not want to lose her again.”

“I know,” Bethany answered. “I want Yara to recover her true self, too. I don’t want the past to torment her anymore.” She strode forward and offered her hand. “So let’s work together to bring her back.”

Leliana smiled, and clasped the mage’s palm.

“We won’t fail,” the spymaster vowed. “Whatever it takes, we’ll bring her home.”


	18. Chapter 18

The walk to Lahara’s quarters was almost as bad as the return journey from the Western Approach. Snow attacked from all angles, and Lahara had to fight against the screaming flurry. Her cabin was barely a hundred feet away, but she couldn’t even see it in the darkness. The paths were slick with ice, hiding the jagged rocks, and Bethany had to use a fire spell to melt their way through. Finally Lahara spotted a lantern at her window, and she struggled through the last of the blizzard.

At last they made it to the door. Lahara pushed it ajar, letting Leliana and Bethany hurry through, before she squeezed inside and slammed it shut.

Shaking snowflakes from her ears, the Herald entered the main room. Eliza was still awake, sipping some tea at her desk, while Ryan was asleep on a bedroll in the corner. Yara was hidden behind a screen, and Hawke’s bed was empty; a sign she’d recovered enough to no longer need constant observation.

Eliza frowned at the trio, rising from her stool.

“Maker, what did I say about visiting hours?” she grumbled, not bothering to hide her long yawn. “Can’t this wait?”

“Sorry Eliza,” Lahara said, “but we’ve got no choice. This could be our last chance to bring Yara back.”

“You sure you want to go through this again?” The healer raised a brow. “I didn’t like what that Solas was saying. And if you stop breathing like last time…”

“ _You_ _stopped breathing_?!” Bethany blurted.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t even for that long,” Lahara brushed off her comment. “And I’m not going to use the Shard like that, remember? It won’t happen again.”

Bethany tensed, but Leliana touched her wrist.

“We are in the right place should anything further happen,” the spymaster said. “And I’m sure you can come up with a failsafe?”

“I…don’t know,” Bethany murmured. “I’m not as well versed in the Fade as Solas.”

“He’s taught me enough to know what to do if things go south,” Lahara said. “I’ll send a distress call. You just have to sit and listen.” She clasped the mage’s shoulder. “Trust me, okay? I’ll try not to do anything stupid.”

Bethany let out a shaky breath, before she finally nodded. “Okay.”

Eliza gave a brief stretch, then removed the screen covering Yara’s bedside. The Warden lay on her back, motionless save for the rise and fall of her chest. Her hair was tousled on her pillow, hiding the cross-shaped scar on her left cheek, and her clothes had been changed. She looked surprisingly well for someone who had been bedbound for almost three weeks; one of the beneficial side effects of her Shard.

Bethany’s gaze softened, and she brushed back Yara’s stray locks. Leliana caught her breath, her eyes brimming with distress. She brushed her fingers over Yara’s hand, but couldn’t bring herself to clasp it.

“Won’t be long,” Lahara said softly.

She made to sit on the floor, when the cabin door flew open again. Leliana and Bethany turned, only to be confronted by Cassandra’s scowling visage. She stormed through, snow flying off her boots, and was followed by Alistair. He looked more worried than wary, his face drawn with exhaustion.

“I wondered who had cleared a path here.” The Seeker’s voice shook. “Are you mad, Lahara? We explicitly forbade you from trying this again!” Her eyes fell to Leliana. “And you’ve been complicit with the Herald’s plan, too?”

“This is our only chance to save Yara,” Leliana said, her brows narrowed. “Lahara has found another way, one that will not put her life at risk. I will not let such a chance slip through.”

Cassandra blinked. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Bethany said.

“And we’re only going to try once,” Lahara said. “If this doesn’t work, then…” She trailed off. It was not going to come to that.

“Then let them get on with it,” Alistair said. “If Lahara could bring back the Champion, I know she can do the same for El…for Yara. It’s not fair to deny her the same chance.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, her teeth clenched. However, she made no further protest and sat on the empty bed.

“Very well,” she said. “I will let you try. But if anything happens I will intervene, regardless of the cost.”

“As you wish.” Lahara gave a conceding shrug.

She sat on the floor, and Bethany and Leliana followed suit. They formed a triangle, their knees just touching each other. Alistair perched beside Cassandra, watching intently. Lahara felt a blush rising. She disliked being treated like an art gallery exhibition.

“Alright Leliana, since you’re not a mage, this might be a little tricky,” she said, concentrating on the task at hand. “Just focus your breathing, and ignore all physical distractions. Then I can take you the rest of the way into the Fade.”

Leliana nodded; it would be just as if she were practicing archery. She closed her eyes, and Bethany did the same. With a parting glance to Yara, Lahara adjusted her position on the floor, then let her mind drift.

Her heartbeats faded away, and soon she was back at the jade-tinged lakebed. She flexed the fingers of her left hand, barely able to hear anything at all. Rapidly she raised her barrier, then strained her ears, intent for any hint of the spymaster. It was much harder without her rift mark, and her pulse quickened. Maker, had Solas blocked her ability to sense _anything_ in the Fade?

Then the air shimmered, and her right hand buzzed. It seemed the Shard was still as active as ever. Tentatively Lahara let the rune reach outwards, lifting the silence that left her stranded.

_Has to wake…can’t lose her again…why doesn’t she remember…she’s scared…miss her…should have found her sooner…why was I such a fool…all this time…_

Lahara snatched the fleeting thoughts. She pushed her own will onto them, forcing them to take shape. The rune on her hand glowed, and finally the mental projection of Leliana appeared. The spymaster raised her head, startled by the scene around her.

“This is…” She couldn’t find the words, awed by the glistening rocks and endless sky. “It’s not how I remember last time.”

“Been here before, huh?” Lahara asked.

“A long time ago, when Elissa…when Yara fought to free the Ferelden mages during the Blight,” Leliana answered.

“Ah, Alistair said something about a Sloth demon before,” Lahara said. “I had to face one for my Harrowing. It’s not nice when they put you to sleep.”

Leliana nodded. Before she could continue, the air rippled once more, and Bethany emerged from the haze. She too examined the barren landscape, wary.

“This place is too open,” she said. “If we make too much noise, we’ll attract demons.”

“Then we’d better get started,” Lahara said.

“What do you need us to do?” Leliana asked.

Lahara chewed her lip, thinking through her plan.

“Okay, there’ll be two parts to this,” she said. “First, you both need to picture Yara as clearly as possible. Your strongest memories of her would be ideal. Once I’ve got her imprint, we can follow the trail.” She let out a breath. “Hopefully that will get us back to the gate.”

“And then what?” Bethany asked.

“Then I have to figure out how to open it without…running into the previous problem,” Lahara said. “Once I can cross over, I’ll have Yara back before you know it.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Bethany murmured.

“Then let us delay no longer,” Leliana said.

She joined hands with Bethany, and they stood stock still, focusing their thoughts. Lahara took a breath, then raised her right hand. It would only seek the memories connected to its sister Shard. The rune sparked, and the Herald let her eyes close.

_The port is empty…should find a vessel before dawn…Mother, why…should have read Amber’s letter sooner…don’t want to leave Yara…she’s here…what does she know, she’s never lost someone…Maker it hurts so much…don’t abandon me…_

**_She’s not moving at all…why didn’t I reach her sooner…Wynne, tell me there’s still hope…her eyes won’t open…but I gave her the Ashes…I can’t be too late…that witch can’t take her from me too…why did you go alone…Elissa, you can’t leave me like this…_ **

Twin lines of silver and black caught the edge of Lahara’s mind. Their rhythm flowed through her Shard, two tunes complimenting each other, and the Herald began to sing.

_So cold…have to hold on…her scouts almost caught us…her turn for the night watch…so much fighting…never enough rest…did the same for me…have to find that apostate…blood mages? Poor child…so frightened…what’s this…Yara, don’t touch it!_

**_Raining…failed to rescue…that bastard looked her in the eye…would have done the same if it was Marjolaine…put her through so much…never thought how she felt…she’s hurting…blaming herself…Maker she’s so beautiful…Elissa, I wish I could…_ **

The lights started to combine. Lahara raised her voice, waiting for the moment they would unite and lead her to the Warden. Her right hand was sore, begging for more mana, but she ignored it. She would not feed the Shard more than she needed.

_The temple…said it would restore her memories…Yara, why do you keep pushing me away…_

**_Too much blood…we were too slow…don’t fall asleep, Elissa…talk to me…don’t let the darkness win…_ **

_I don’t want to see you hurt…set you free…the statue…no, it shouldn’t be like this…Yara…_

**_Why won’t she wake up…feels the pain, doesn’t she…still breathing…not again…it can’t be like this…Elissa…_ **

_Come **back** to **us**!_

At last the strings of light became one, and Lahara opened her eyes. Her right hand flashed, and the trail appeared, a thread of midnight and silver stretching to the horizon. She bolted, and Bethany and Leliana were pulled with her. The three raced along the lakebed, intent on the light.

The wind picked up, ripping through the earth, and then the ground opened into a river. Lahara jumped, the water splashing her ankles, Bethany and Leliana behind her. Soon trees appeared on the banks, and then the black ruins emerged.

Leliana and Bethany gasped, slowing to look around. Lahara didn’t pause, making a beeline for the cathedral. She skidded to a halt by the entrance, her right hand tingling. The trail remained, cutting through the debris and leading right to the obsidian gate. Thank the Maker, it was still intact.

“Andraste’s grace, what is this place?” Bethany caught up to Lahara, her eyes wide. “I didn’t think the Fade extended this far.”

Lahara blinked, breaking her gaze from the pillars. She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“Well, believe it or not, these are the ruins from where the Tevinter magisters opened their portal into the Fade,” she said.

“Maker above, you can’t mean…” Leliana’s jaw dropped. “Then if Yara is beyond that gate, she must be in the Black City!”

“Incredible,” Bethany breathed. “But how do we reach her?”

“I’m working on it,” Lahara murmured, eyeing the glyphs once more. “My Shard almost got it open, but we know where that led, so…”

A harsh scream interrupted her. The Herald looked up, just as a shadow leapt from the crumbled rooftop. It made straight for Bethany, but Leliana was faster. The spymaster shoved Bethany aside, and the demon’s claws tore right through her instead.

“Leliana!” Bethany thrust out her hands, and brilliant lightning escaped her palms. The creature screamed, bowling over and over until it smacked into a broken pillar. Bethany didn’t stop, sending another bolt through its chest. The demon collapsed, lifeless, then vanished into mist.

“Damn it!” Lahara hurried to Leliana, lifting her into her lap. A deep score ran from her lower chest to her stomach, and it was bleeding profusely. The Herald’s breath caught. It was not a true wound in the physical sense, but it could not be mended here, not even with magic. And if Leliana perished in the Fade, she would never wake up in the real world.

“I have to send you back,” Lahara said, pressing her right hand against the spymaster’s chest.

“No…you’ll…lose…the trail!” Leliana raised a shaking hand and grasped Lahara’s arm. “I can…hold on. Open…the gate…now!”

“I would if I knew how!” Lahara snapped. “Listen, just…”

Suddenly her Shard flared, and the Herald snatched her hand to her chest. The light trail glowed even brighter, then burst into black and silver fragments. Bethany gasped. The pieces drifted, drawn to the glyphs, and one by one they came to life. Finally all twelve were alight, and a blast of cold hit Lahara’s face.

The portal was open.

Leliana whimpered, falling limp in Lahara’s lap.

“Beth, take her back _right now_ or we’ll lose her!” The Herald pushed the spymaster into the mage’s arms. “I’m going after Yara!”

“Lara, don’t!” Bethany cried. “What if…”

The rest of her words slipped away as Lahara jumped to her feet and charged through the gate.

There was no going back now.


	19. Chapter 19

Lahara broke through the portal, stumbling onto a precipice of rock. Loose stones caught in her boots, and she had to stick out her arms to stop herself tumbling over the edge.

“Whoa!” She backpedalled, pressing herself against the pillar behind her. The drop led to a vast ocean, but it must have been hundreds of feet below.

Catching her breath, Lahara rested her hands on her thighs, her brow drenched. Once she’d recovered, she stood tall and looked around. The starless sky was navy blue, contrasting with the silver waves below. The air was also filled with multiple islands, each of different sizes, and all towered above the churning water.

Lahara glanced back to the gate, still able to see the cathedral ruins on the other side. Bethany and Leliana had disappeared, and she offered a silent prayer. Leliana _would_ be alright. She had to be.

Sighing, the Herald turned to the islands. They were reachable via aerial stepping stones, but it was a long drop if she fell. Further, with Bethany and Leliana gone, Yara’s trail had disappeared. The Warden could be anywhere, and with so much ground to cover…

“Maker’s breath, what the hell am I supposed to do now?!”

Lahara stomped her foot. She pressed her palms to her forehead, wracking her brain for ideas, when the nearest island shimmered. The barren rock shifted, and a ruined archway appeared. Silver mist started to ebb from the stone, and Lahara frowned. Another gateway, although Maker knew where that one led. Still, she wouldn’t get any closer to finding Yara by just standing around.

She took a deep breath, then ventured across the stepping stones. The water gurgled far, far below, and she licked her lips, forcing herself not to look down. Thankfully she arrived at the island without mishap. The archway began to glow, flecked with similar glyphs, although they were far fewer.

Swallowing, Lahara approached. She walked between the pillars, and her Shard lit up. The Herald flinched, when the world melted away. The islands disappeared, replaced with bronze cliffs and the clangs of swords and shields. The midnight sky remained, and Lahara gasped.

_It is too late to wait for Alistair and Wynne. The undead army are making their final assault, and the Redcliffe soldiers can’t hold the lines. Both Leliana and I are injured, and we have lost what little ground we gained. I focus on the castle, hobbling up the steep path, my heart filling with dread._

_I don’t want to do this._

_Lady Isolde meets us at the gate. She knows the question on my lips, and does not hesitate to affirm her conviction. No mother would ever let their child come to harm if they could sacrifice themselves to prevent it. I would know; it was a choice my own mother made when I fled our burning home._

_A choice I never wanted to see taken again…_

The castle courtyard fizzled away, and Lahara groaned, throw back into the realm of darkness. She staggered out of the archway, grasping her face. Her heart raced, and her breaths came in short gasps; as if she had experienced the event herself. But she’d never even been to Redcliffe, and just who in Thedas’s name was Lady Isolde?

Lahara shook her head, taking deep breaths. Slowly the adrenaline faded, and the gears began to turn. The Hero of Ferelden had saved Redcliffe from an undead army, or so the stories claimed.

Then…did that mean…

The air shook again, and the Herald glanced to the next island. Another archway had emerged, billowing with the same silver mist. Her Shard flickered, encouraging her to follow the path. Lahara clenched her fists, striding to the next set of stepping stones. At the island she didn’t stop, and passed straight through the gate. The landscape changed once more, becoming daylight, and she could taste the salty scent of the sea air.

_“Come on, you can do it!”_

_Eliza’s voice encourages me, and I lift the wooden sword. It feels impossibly heavy, my arms weak from so many months of underuse. It was not that long ago I could not even raise a spoon to feed myself. But the hilt in my hand is…familiar. I must have been taught to wield a sword before, but the memory eludes me. Just like everything else before the accident._

_“There you go, now try swinging it!” Eliza taps the straw mound before me; a dummy borrowed from the city guardsmen. I tense the muscles in my arm, and make to strike._

_I only make it half-way when the spasms grip me. I cry out, dropping the wooden blade. Eliza is at my side in an instant, holding where it hurts. My cheeks flush, but she doesn’t chide me._

_“That wasn’t bad, Yara,” she says. “We’ll try again later.”_

_I nod, not disheartened. If I have managed to regain the ability to speak, to walk, then this too will come in time…_

“Ugh!” Lahara fell through the arch, gripping her arm where it ached. Except it didn’t ache; she hadn’t been practicing with a sword. The Herald sank to her knees, her right hand throbbing. That had _definitely_ been Yara’s memory.

But why was she experiencing them as if they were her own?

“This is crazy,” Lahara huffed.

She took a moment to rest, then rose to her feet once more. The next island loomed, and as expected another archway had formed. Lahara’s heart skipped a beat, and she held a hand to her chest. She really didn’t want to go through another memory. But if she wanted to find Yara, there was no other way. She would have to continue the trail.

The third island was smaller, its gate taking almost the entire space. Lahara stared at the silver mist, unable to stop her hands shaking. _Just a little more_ , she convinced herself. _You can do this, Lara_.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched through the archway. Her Shard came to life, and she fell into a blinding light.

_It is so bright, it hurts my eyes. But I cannot look away. It is my salvation; my only hope of destroying this venom that burns my veins. The poison that could claim me at any moment. Leliana is all but carrying me these final steps. I could not have made it this far without her._

_“Thank you.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I…”_

_“Hush,” she soothes, drawing me closer. “It’s almost over.”_

_We ascend the path together. I can taste powerful magic, and my hope is affirmed. I know without doubt I will be cured. My struggles have not been for nought. And all thanks to my red-haired saviour._

_I gaze upon the urn of Sacred Ashes, and peace washes over me. But the calmness spreads too quickly, too strongly. My legs fail, and I collapse, torn from her arms._

_Maker, I can’t breathe…_

_“ELISSA!”_

The shock ripped through Lahara, and she collapsed out of the arch, choking. Her head felt like it was going to explode, and she grasped at her throat, trying to reclaim her stolen breath. All she knew was pain, and she lay on the ground, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

“Not my name,” she mumbled, digging her fingers into her temples. “Not my memory!”

She rubbed her eyes, repeating the mantra over and over, until the awful feelings finally passed. Soaked in sweat, Lahara remained still, letting the realisation sink in. There was no doubting it now; the memory patterns were the same.

Leliana had been right after all.

The Herald pulled herself to her feet, almost afraid to look ahead. However, the next island appeared to be the last. Only one set of stepping stones led to it, and she shivered. Could she go through this one more time?

_Like I have a choice._

Lahara crossed the final path, coming face to face with the last arch. She cringed, fighting down the tightness in her chest.

“You’d better be waiting on the other side, Yara,” she muttered, before striding through.

_Morrigan’s eyes fill with pity, and it strikes more deeply than the arrow that pierced my shoulder. I can sense recognition in her gaze, but she will not acknowledge it._

_“I am afraid I cannot help you.”_

_She turns away, but I block her path. I have spent so long searching for her; I will not be denied!_

_“What? Why?” My fist shakes. “I know you remember! I’m not asking for…”_

_She faces me once more, and my words fall away. Her expression is grave._

_“I am not denying it did not happen,” she states. “I can sense magic in your mind that should not be there. But even if t’is true, there is nothing more I can do for you. That fugue is a deep, ancient magic, and it has no counter-spell.”_

_Time seems to stop, and my chest becomes tight. My arms shake, and my throat goes dry. No counter-spell? It can’t be. She’s lying…why is she doing this to me?! I sacrificed everything for this moment! I tore Bethany from her sister, abandoned my home with the Wardens, faced the wrath of the Left Hand herself…_

_And now the Maker takes away the only hope that has kept me going all these years!_

_I don’t deserve this!_

A bellow tore through Lahara’s throat, and she clamped her hands to her ears.

“No, no, no!” She crumpled to the ground, and howled to the sky. “I am Lahara Nevenka Julia Trevelyan! Youngest scion of House Trevelyan, former Mage of Ostwick Circle, Herald of Andraste and the only Free Marcher alive who can dance all six parts of the Raventrist!"

Her scream shattered through the smothering despair, and she was back on the island. Every muscle trembled, and she gulped for breath, her skin clammy. It wasn’t real… _wasn’t real_. She was still in this unknown realm, alone and cold and aching and tired and absolutely _not_ about to have her heart crushed into pieces and…

Stabbing pain burst through her right hand, and Lahara cried out. Her Shard became impossibly bright, and the Herald blinked, spots dancing across her vision. She grabbed her wrist, the rune pulsing, when abruptly the light broke free and drifted into the open.

The aura twisted and writhed, and Lahara stared. It grew taller, broader, forming a human shape. The glow gained a head, body and limbs, and then it vanished, revealing a young woman.

The Herald’s jaw hung slack.

“Yara?”

The woman gazed back, bemused. Lahara bit her lip. She _looked_ very much like the reserved Warden, but something wasn’t quite right. Her hair was dark brown, not jet black, and her eyes were more hazel than green. She also didn’t have the scar on her left cheek, and seemed younger, somehow. Yet aside from such minor differences, the rest of her features were far too much a likeness to be anyone else.

“Yara?” the woman repeated. “Who’s that?”

She brushed back her hair, revealing her Warden pendant, and Lahara’s breath caught. If she wasn’t Yara, then she had to be…

“My name is Elissa Cousland,” the woman went on. “And I’ve been stuck here a very long time.”


	20. Chapter 20

Lahara held a hand to her mouth. She could only stare back, unbelieving. Yet while she should’ve been overjoyed she’d found the Warden, only wariness gripped her. There was no familiarity or recognition in Elissa’s eyes; the Herald may as well have been meeting her for the first time again.

But Yara and Elissa _were_ the same person—the memories had proven it.

Why then did it seem like she was talking to a complete stranger?

“So, who are you?” Elissa broke Lahara’s thoughts. “I’ve travelled almost this entire realm, and I’ve never come across you before.”

Lahara blinked, a blush creeping on her cheeks.

“Er, call me Lara,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. She had to be careful what she let slip. “I only just got here, and I came to look for someone.”

“This ‘Yara’ person?” Elissa let out a chuckle. “I doubt you’ll find her. There’s no-one around but me.”

“So it would seem,” Lahara murmured. She glanced around, but she wasn’t sure what her next step should be. Tempted as she was to coax Elissa to come with her, she couldn’t shake off her hesitation. Something wasn’t quite right, and she didn’t want to stir the pot without knowing the full set of ingredients.

“Where did you come from, anyway?” Elissa went on.

Lahara pointed to the gates behind her. “Those gateways brought me through from the Fade.”

“You must be a mage, then,” Elissa deduced. Her gaze turned wistful. “Perhaps if I had such power, I’d have found a way out by now.”

“By now?” Lahara raised a brow. “Just how long have you been stuck for?”

“Hard to say,” Elissa shrugged. “Time doesn’t exist in this place, as far as I can tell. So while I feel like it’s been years, it might be a few seconds, or even centuries.”

“I see,” Lahara said, rubbing her right hand. “Do you know how you ended up here?”

“That’s a question I’ve been trying to answer for far too long.” Elissa’s gaze became distant. “I remember defeating the Archdemon at Fort Drakon, but it collapsed and destroyed the tower, taking me with it.” She fingered her Warden pendant. “I thought I was done for. Then by some miracle I woke up here, alone. I’ve been looking for a way back ever since.”

“Oh?” Lahara tilted her head. The Fifth Blight had ended more than a decade ago. But Yara had survived and kept on living, even if it had been in ignorance of the past.

_Elissa couldn’t possibly have been here for that long._

“I’ve explored every one of these gates,” Elissa continued, “but each time I go through the last one, it just brings me back here again.” She pressed her hand over her chest. “I think I lost something when I fell from the tower; something I need to find my way out. Until I get it back, I’ll be trapped for the rest of eternity.”

Lahara’s eyes widened.

“Maker, that’s terrible,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” Elissa’s voice was weary. “I’m so tired of wandering the endless dark, but when I don’t even know what I’m looking for, what hope do I have?”

“What do you mean?”

Elissa folded her arms around herself.

“It’s hard to explain,” she admitted. “It’s…like a piece of me has been torn out. There’s an emptiness inside my heart, but I can’t sense exactly what’s gone, so I don’t know how to replace it.”

Lahara bit her lip, glancing to her Shard. Perhaps her and Hawke’s meddling had done more damage than they realised. This was why Yara had been near impossible to find—her essence must have fractured, and she could not return to normal until she was whole again.

She had to fix this.

“You know, maybe I can help you out,” the Herald said. “If I can find the part of you that’s lost, you should be able to break free of this place.”

Elissa clenched her jaw. “You’d offer me escape when you barely even know me? When I don’t even know _you_?”

Lahara tensed. She should have expected as much.

“I know enough to offer a hand to someone who needs it,” she said carefully, mindful that it was partly her fault this had happened in the first place. “Even the Hero of Ferelden can’t handle everything on her own.”

“Hmph, I’m hardly a hero,” Elissa scoffed. “I did what was necessary, and paid the price for it.”

“Then let me clear that debt,” Lahara said. “No-one deserves to wander the shadows forever. And let’s face it, I’m your only chance at getting out of here. You’ve got nothing to lose by taking it.”

Elissa frowned slightly, but Lahara kept a level gaze. If she didn’t win over the Warden, Yara would be stuck in this realm forever, and the Herald was not going to return empty-handed and be roasted alive by Bethany _and_ Leliana.

Eventually Elissa sighed, and reached for her pendant again.

“Alright, Lara,” she said. “Maker knows there has to be a reason we’ve found each other. And I’ve been here long enough to know even demons don’t roam this place. I suppose I’ll have to trust you.”

“You won’t regret it,” Lahara said, holding out her hand.

Elissa hesitated for a moment, but then took it, cementing their agreement.

“The last gate is this way,” she said. “Maybe you’ll have more luck with it. Follow me.”

Nodding, Lahara trailed after the Warden. This island was larger than the previous ones, made up of grey and white rock, and even had its own mountain range. However there was no foliage, making for a very barren landscape.

They climbed higher and higher, broaching a silver mist, before at last they stepped onto a flat precipice. It overlooked the raging ocean, which was much further below than Lahara liked. Another gate stood at the edge of the rocks, and the Herald whistled in awe. It was identical to the one in the ancient cathedral, although it was not coated with blood. It glyphs took on an eerie glow, and Lahara winced, grasping her right hand. Her Shard had awakened again.

A sudden wind picked up, and Elissa stepped back.

“It seems you’ve some power over these gates,” she said, eyeing the rune on the Herald’s hand.

“Oh, they’ve taken a liking to me, for sure,” Lahara answered, licking her parched lips. If this gate was anything like the others, another of the Warden’s memories lay beyond the black pillars. She was not looking forward to it.

“I wish you luck,” Elissa said. “And thank you, for doing this for me.”

Lahara acknowledged her with a nod. Her hair whipped into a frenzy, she cautiously strode to the gateway. At the threshold she paused. The glyphs began to flash faster, crackling with energy, and her pulse quivered. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than what she’d already been through.

_Could it?_

Sucking in a breath, Lahara walked straight into the heart of the storm.

* * *

 

_The moonlit lake stretches before me, and I shiver. My tears fall freely now, and I collapse to my knees. The air is cold and bitter, like the knot of pain choking me within. The ghost of my brother’s voice echoes, and it burns into my chest._

_“You promised I’d never be alone,” I whisper, the image of his face drifting across my vision. But the harsh truth remains. He is gone, along with my parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew, my home; everything I had known and loved. It is all ashes on my tongue, and I am left with a burden I cannot hope to carry._

_I cannot be the leader Ferelden needs right now._

_I am not strong enough._

_My eyes fall back to the lake, so many feet below. Temptation whispers in my ear, and I shudder. It would take but a single step, and eternal darkness would silence this anguish forever…_

_Fresh steps disturb the quiet, and I look back. Leliana’s concerned gaze meets mine, and my cheeks flush. An uneasy calm descends, until she takes a breath and comes to my side. Her patience eventually wins, and I confess the heaviness on my heart._

_“I don’t want to drown in darkness anymore.”_

_There is no shock in her grey-blue eyes; only the understanding of one who has walked a similar path. She speaks her own confession, a mirror of the shadows that overwhelm me, and she takes my hand in hers. She_ knows _._

_“Your pain is not all that you are,” she murmurs._

_Her words offer hope, and I close my eyes. I want to believe her with all my being, but…I cannot go on like this._

_I cannot be who I was…_

_Not anymore._

“NO!”

Lahara shrieked, falling through the gate and onto her knees. The icy tiles bit into her legs, and she clamped her palms over her ears, every muscle trembling. Her chest was so tight, and she couldn’t get her breaths quick enough.

Maker, that _thought_ …that horrible, horrible thought!

“Don’t want to die,” she muttered breathlessly. “Don’t want to die, don’t want to die, _I don’t want to die_!”

She forced her eyes closed, but the whispers would not leave her. Not the echoes of Yara’s memory, but the terrifying recollection of her own. The voices that had taunted Lahara since the day Joseph fell from the tower, telling her she didn’t deserve to live, that nobody would care if she disappeared, that it was the only way to atone for what had happened…

“No,” Lahara whimpered, overwhelmed with tears.

_Don’t make me go back there!_

**_But it wasn’t your fault, sis._ **

Lahara snapped her head up. Who said that?

**_I’m still with you._ **

The Herald looked back, and her breath caught in her throat. A male figure had appeared at the gate. He stepped into the light, revealing reddish hair and green eyes, and a soft smile creased his lips.

“Joseph?” Lahara could barely form his name on her lips.

The man’s smile widened, and he crouched beside her.

 ** _You’ve come a long way_** _,_ he said. **_Although your journey is far from over._**

“What…how…” Lahara reached for her brother’s hand, but her fingers passed straight through. Her mind was screaming, telling her it had to be a trick, yet deep inside she _knew_ it was him. How had his spirit lingered after all this time…

 ** _We’ll see each other again, Lara_** _,_ Joseph said, returning to his feet. **_Soon, when Thedas is reborn anew. But you must rescue your friend and restore what was lost, or the Maker’s efforts will crumble to nothing._**

Before Lahara could respond, his form turned to light, and the rune on her hand began to glow. Then the Shard burst into a blazing trail, illuminating the ruins around her. The Herald gasped, the shackle of her thoughts broken. Every building was built from glistening obsidian, and stretched as far as the eye could see. In the centre stretched a twisted spire, and her eyes widened.

She was inside the Black City.

Lahara scrambled to her feet. She held her forehead, the whirlwind of thoughts slowly easing. Her rune continued to flicker, and she bit her lip. This was insane. Had the Shard conjured her brother as a figment of her imagination, or was it something else?

Maker, there’d been so much more she’d wanted to say to him…

Shaking her head, Lahara swept back her hair and followed the light trail. Her steps were still shaky, but she forced herself to keep going.  She’d spent long enough in this maddening realm, and it was starting to get to her. The sooner she dragged Yara out, the better.

As she walked through the ruins, a breeze stirred. Tiny sparkles drifted by, warm against Lahara’s skin, and she found herself watching them. Some glinted silver-blue, like lyrium, while others were midnight black, akin to the Corruption she’d recently become acquainted with. The fragments seemed attracted to her right hand, and she clenched them in her fist. There was certainly a deep connection with this place to her Shard.

Just what kind of power did they truly hold?

At last the path of light ended. It had brought Lahara directly below the spire. The Herald raised a hand to her eyes, half-blinded by the gleaming throne that stood before her. At least the Chantry appeared right about one thing. It towered above her, made of black and silver crystal, the particles inside shimmering like stars.

And curled upon it, her head buried in her knees, was…

“Yara!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to Yara’s POV. I will return to Lara at some point but I’ll try to make it clear beforehand.

Yara blinked, her name sending a shiver down her spine. These ruins were abandoned, devoid of all life; nothing had a voice here. Yet she would know that Free Marcher accent anywhere. She raised her head, her muscles stiff from underuse, and met the gaze of Lahara Trevelyan. The Herald’s auburn locks were messed up, but her mismatched eyes remained resilient. Her right hand also pulsed with light, and Yara pressed her palm to her breastbone.

_Could it be…another Shard?_

“Well, are you going to come down and say hello or what?” Lahara asked, tapping her foot. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Yara could only close her eyes. The sight of the Herald should have brought relief, yet only aching emptiness burned inside. It was all she had known since waking up in the ruins, and it had all but consumed her. She was beyond even Lahara’s help, now.

The crystal groaned, and Yara opened her eyes. Lahara was scaling the throne. At last the Herald perched beside her, her jaw tense.

“Look, it’s really me.” Lahara took Yara’s hand and squeezed. Yara stared, the Herald’s warmth bathing her fingers.

If only she had reached here sooner…

“How…How did you find me?”

Lahara managed a relieved smile.

“With difficulty, that’s for sure,” she replied. “Remind me to never challenge you to a game of hide and seek.” Her grin faltered, and her tone turned serious again. “Are you okay?”

Yara glanced aside, holding her hand across her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth. The hollowness within was more than just a bitter ache. It had steadily drained her, until she could barely even breathe. That was when she’d collapsed at the crystal throne, awaiting the end.

Her rune glowed, and she grimaced, the lights within crystal stirred. If not for the Shard’s power, she would have long since faded away. But now it was the only thing keeping Yara going, her spirit no longer enough to sustain her.

She could never leave.

“I’m fine,” Yara murmured.

“You sure?” Lahara eyed her up and down. “You don’t look fine.” She hesitated, fiddling with her collar. “Don’t you feel like something’s…missing at all?”

Yara bit back her gasp. She held her arms around herself, staring at the ground. That was _exactly_ how she felt. And she could pinpoint exactly what had vanished, too—all the feelings and experiences before her accident. For too long they had festered in darkness, yet since releasing the Shards, they had completely disappeared. Cut away as if they never existed, and Yara had no means to recover them.

Yet even if she _could_ regain her missing memories, Yara wasn’t sure she wanted them back. They had brought her nothing but pain, and were better off lost forever. Elissa Cousland was long dead, and the world had moved on without her. _Yara_ had moved on without her.

There was no place for the Hero of Ferelden anymore.

“No,” Yara lied. “Why do you ask?”

Lahara’s brows narrowed slightly.

“No reason,” she answered, although her eyes gave away she knew more than she was letting on. “Anyway, while I’m sure the Maker appreciates you keeping His throne warm, wouldn’t you rather freeze to death in Haven with me?”

“I…can’t,” Yara said, clutching the throne tighter. If she left the crystal, she would fall apart. It was the only thing stopping her spirit from unravelling.

“If you’re worried about the gate, I know how it works,” Lahara said. “It’s how I got here in the first place.”

“I said I…”

Lahara grabbed Yara’s hand. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!”

She yanked Yara off the throne. The moment Yara broke contact, the crystal flashed. They hit the tiles, and Yara cried out. Fire tore through her ribs, and she grasped her chest, her rune blazing.

_No, she couldn’t leave!_

“Come on!” Lahara pulled, and Yara was forced to run. It only took a few paces before her legs gave way. She staggered, but Lahara didn’t let up on her grip. In a swift movement the Herald twisted round, catching Yara on her back. Then Lahara broke into a sprint, heading straight for the obsidian gate. The pillars came to life, and Yara’s vision swam. The world around began to fade, but before she’d lose consciousness, they broke through the portal.

**_Wait…don’t leave me…_ **

Lahara thundered back to the ground. She lost her grip on Yara, and they landed hard on the brittle rocks. The Herald cursed, rubbing her shoulder. Yara remained still, the icy air raw against her throat. She couldn’t move.

Her gaze fell to the midnight sky, inky and vast; mirroring the chasm widening within her. There was no stopping it now.

“Maker, what’s happening to you?” Lahara knelt beside Yara, resting her right hand on Yara’s chest. Yara’s Shard flickered, but its light was fading. The Herald’s eyes widened. “Wait here, I’m going to find Elissa and set you right!”

The mention of the Hero’s name made Yara flinch.

_She…She can’t be…she’s dead…_

**_You won’t abandon me again!_ **

Footsteps approached, and Lahara gasped. A shadow fell over Yara, and she found the strength to raise her head. Green eyes met hazel, and Yara’s breath caught.

 _“You,”_ she whispered.

_You were supposed to disappear!_

“Yes.” Elissa’s eyes narrowed. “You remember me now, don’t you?”

Denial sprang to Yara’s lips, but never came forth. Her heart was slowly realising the truth, and now it was staring down at her.

“I…you’re…” She looked away. “You’re not really her.”

“No, I’m not.” Elissa answered. “I have her form and thoughts, but I’m not whole.” She held her palm over her chest. “I’m missing something important. Just like you are.”

Yara winced, her shoulders slumping. Lahara stared, clutching her right hand close.

“Yes.” The admission stung, and Yara brushed her fingers against her Shard. “It was because of Morrigan’s fugue. She made me lose my past, and…”

“Oh, it wasn’t only Morrigan’s doing,” Elissa interrupted. “She played a part, for sure, but do you know who first severed us apart?”

Yara clenched her teeth. A memory prickled—one she should not have been able to recall—but she couldn’t stop it.

“It was you,” Elissa said, her hazel eyes darkening. She started to pace around Yara. “It happened a long time ago. When you couldn’t face what you’d lost, and you’d have done anything to be rid of the pain…”

Yara gasped, the vision replaying. The night sky, the lake, the cliff…

_The light that hurt._

“You were hurting so badly, you didn’t know what to do,” Elissa continued. “You couldn’t accept what happened to you, nor what lay ahead. So you cast me aside, and locked me inside your heart.”

Her words pierced like arrows, and Yara clenched her fists. Yes, it was coming back to her now. Burdened with such hopelessness, her only option had been to bury everything inside, where it would no longer rip her apart.

“I…had no choice,” she murmured. “I _had_ to be rid of you! You were the reason everything hurt! It was the only way I could…”

“Move forward?” Elissa’s tone was mocking. “But I became more than that, didn’t I? As time passed, you made me everything you hated about yourself. Your selfishness, your fearfulness, your loneliness, your guilt…” Her jaw tensed. “And when you fell after the defeat of the Archdemon, you couldn’t bear the thought of me anymore. You wanted to _cut me away_ , so you’d never be reminded of your failures!”

Yara clenched her eyes shut.

“I became the piece of your soul you couldn’t accept, that you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge,” Elissa continued. “And Morrigan’s spell made your wish come true.”

Lahara caught her breath.

“Then…it was the fugue that split your soul in half, not the Shards, and that’s why neither of you can leave this place,” she deduced. “Yara, you can’t keep denying yourself like this! You have to become whole again, or you’ll be trapped forever!”

“ _No_!” Yara screamed. “No, I won’t…never!” Her body trembled, and she raked her hands through her hair. The thought of going back to _that_ … “I can’t…I can’t…” Her chest tightened, and her breaths turned to ragged wheezes. “If I…that pain again…I’ll...I’ll lose myself!”

“You can’t hide from who you are!” Elissa barked. “Stop denying me, Yara. If we remain separated, then neither of us will survive much longer.”

“Then I choose death,” Yara hissed. “I won’t have my heart crushed like that again!”

“No, Yara, stop!” Lahara tried to grab her, but a tremor rocked the ground. Gasping, the Herald fell to her knees. “Elissa?!”

Elissa remained above Yara. Her hazel eyes were empty.

“Then let the shadows take you,” she whispered. “You deserve to be alone, for all eternity!”

Yara’s face filled with horror.

“No, wait!”

She reached out, but she was too late; Elissa was already fading. Lahara also tried to grab her, but her hands slid through Elissa’s form. Then the ground was torn asunder, and the Herald yelped, separated from Yara. She scrambled, trying to jump back to the ledge, but the gap was too wide. Her balance faltered, and Lahara fell, right back into the gate. The pillars flashed, and she disappeared.

“Please, no!” Yara struggled to stand. “Elissa, come back! I…I…”

The ground gave way, and Yara screamed. She plunged into the abyss, snatching at the fading light.

_No!_

_Don’t…_

_Don’t leave me alone!_

* * *

 

“Maker, her heart’s stopped!”

Eliza threw herself at Yara, ripping open her shirt and ramming the heel of her hand onto her chest. “Ryan, wake up, I need a hand!”

She started the forceful compressions, as Ryan jolted from sleep. In his next breath he jumped from his bedroll, grabbing the breathing mask from the desk. Leliana and Bethany shot to their feet, exchanging a horrified glance.

“No!” Alistair cried, when Lahara jerked awake. She blinked, then held her right hand, groaning.

“Lahara, what happened?!” Leliana grabbed the Herald’s collar. Bethany was right beside her, her face white. “Tell us, now!”

Lahara could only bow her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. How could she speak of what had happened? Yara had lost her will to live, and now she was going to disappear for good.

She’d failed.

“ _Answer me_!” Leliana shrieked, shaking the Herald.

“I’m sorry,” Lahara whispered. “I did all I could to get her back. But she…gave up.”

“No!” Bethany’s eyes brimmed with tears. “She couldn’t…she wouldn’t!”

“You’re lying!” Leliana barked. “Elissa would never give up on life! Not when she survived against all odds!”

“Two minutes, Eliza!” Ryan called out, clamping the mask over Yara’s mouth and nose.

Eliza swore, stopping to let him give two rescue breaths. She then replaced her hands on Yara’s chest, but her compressions were weakening. She was too tired.

“Let me take over!” Alistair roared.

Eliza nodded, and the Warden-Commander copied her pose. He threw all his weight behind every push, and a sickening crunch echoed. Bethany whimpered, burying her face in her hands. She couldn’t watch.

“Maker above, _please_!” Leliana fell to her knees, her hands clasped together. “I had to watch her die once!” Her shoulders trembled. “ _You have to let her live_!”

“Not…going to…lose you…this…time!” Alistair puffed, not letting up. “Elissa… _wake_ … _up_ …dammit!”

* * *

 

Yara couldn’t breathe. Darkness surrounded her, and she was drowning in it. Her vision was clouded, the pain in her chest suffocating, and she couldn’t fight it any more.

This was it.

But as much as she wanted to succumb, to let the torment finally end and never open her eyes again, a spark within still called out to her.

**You cannot disappear.**

_But the light…it hurts…_

**_There is so much you have yet to do._ **

_Maker, don’t! I can’t go through that again!_

**_You can, and you must. For you fear the alternative more._ **

_…I…_

_I don’t want to die…_

_But I can’t do this…_

_I’m not strong enough on my own!_

**_No matter how smothering the darkness, there is always a light that can never be extinguished. It burns in hearts other than your own, and they can rekindle you, if you would let them._ **

Yara’s eyes opened. The flickering image of Leliana and Bethany appeared, along with Alistair, Nathaniel, even Lahara; everyone she had come to know and care for.

**_Draw your radiance from those who love you…_ **

Grimacing, Yara found the strength to raise her hand to the vanishing light.

It was her only hope.

_Please…someone…_

_“Help me!”_

The moment she spoke, a burst of brilliance flared above. Yara could only stare, entranced, as a figure soared through the depths, coming straight for her. Warm arms embraced Yara, and she caught strands of brown hair floating in the blackness.

_Elissa?_

_No…_

_Me._

Yara forced herself to raise her arms, and she wrapped them around Elissa. Agony surged inside, threatening to tear her apart, but for the first time she didn’t resist.

She had run for long enough.

_My home is burning. Mother, Father, I love you, and I’m so, so sorry._

**_Eliza waits at the end of the room, smiling. I take another hesitant step. I can do this._ **

_I am left a burning agony. Terror seeps into my bones, and I hear the song that will one day call me to death…_

**_Bethany takes my shoulder. “I won’t let that be. Not after what you’ve done for us.”_ **

_“I won’t let you die,” Leliana mutters. “Not when we need you. When…” She hesitates. “…when_ I _need you.”_

**_Bethany collapses once more. We have to find Stroud, quickly!_ **

_Leliana’s breath warms my lips, and then we are as one._

**_Bethany’s eyes now hold the same wariness as mine. Thank the Maker, she survived!_ **

_“Your family ring?” Leliana’s voice trembles. “Are you sure?”_

**_“The only way you could have that pendant was if you stole it from her corpse!”_ **

_The Archdemon screams. I cry out, my fingers snatching at the disappearing ground._

**_“She will not last the night.”_ **

_“Fluster me?” Leliana splutters. “How about turning me inside out, not knowing if you’d stop breathing? Or if I had given you the Ashes in time, or that you would ever…”_

**_“Open your eyes, child!”_ **

* * *

 

Yara suddenly let out a heaving gasp, and Ryan flinched. Rapidly she fell into a harsh coughing fit, fighting to draw breath into her lungs. Alistair stopped his compressions, drenched in sweat. Ryan snatched the mask away, then rolled Yara onto her side. Eliza slipped in beside him, bowl in hand. She was just in time as Yara vomited, coughing out bitter bile. Ryan discarded the mask, using a reed to clear Yara’s mouth before she would choke.

“Praise Andraste!” Eliza pressed her fingers against Yara’s neck, reassured by the beating pulse. “Good work, Commander.”

“Thank the Maker!” Leliana buried her forehead in her hands, her cheeks streaming tears. Cassandra rested her hand on the spymaster’s shoulder, reassuring.

“It truly is a miracle,” the Seeker breathed.

“ _You_ _stupid, arrogant, selfish little bitch_!” Lahara screeched. She stormed to Yara’s bedside, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again, you hear?! I didn’t risk my life wandering the Fade with half my magic blocked so you could throw a hissy fit when I finally found you!”

Despite her broken ribs, Yara couldn’t help herself and started to laugh. It hurt, oh Maker it hurt, but she didn’t care. The Herald had achieved the impossible, and she would be forever grateful.

“Glad you find it so bloody hilarious,” Lahara huffed. “If you weren’t so weak right now, I’d show you something really funny…”

“Easy, Herald,” Alistair said, chuckling. “It’s not the first time Yara’s pulled something like this. You get used to it.”

Eventually Yara’s breathing calmed, and Ryan rolled her onto her back again.

“Here.” Bethany pressed her palm to Yara’s breastbone, healing the fractures. Yara let her eyes close, though still grimaced at the mage’s touch. Her ribs would mend, but the deeper pain—both inside and out—would take a lot longer.

As Bethany finished, Leliana rose to her feet. She walked over, crouching beside Yara. Yara turned aside, suddenly finding it hard to look at the bard. Now memories of past and present were united, and it left an uncomfortable knot in her stomach. Leliana took a breath, meaning to speak, but Eliza beat her to it.

“Right, everyone out,” the healer ordered. “Except Bethany and Ryan. The real work starts now.”

Leliana tensed. “But…”

“No exceptions,” Eliza said, “even for you, spymaster. Once I’m happy Yara is stable, you can come and visit to your heart’s content.”

Leliana’s eyes flared, but Cassandra held her back.

“Yara needs to regain her strength,” the Seeker said. “And you still have your own duties to attend in the morning.”

Leliana closed her mouth, resigned to a defeated nod. Cassandra made for the door, but the bard hesitated. Finally she sucked in a breath and touched Yara’s wrist. A jitter ran up Yara’s arm, and she tensed. It did not go unnoticed, and Leliana swiftly removed her fingers. She muttered something to herself, then departed.

“You alright, Herald?” Ryan asked. “I can check you over if you want.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Lahara said, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing a decent sleep won’t fix, anyway. I’ll leave you to it.”

She followed Alistair into the snow outside, leaving only Bethany and Eliza’s assistant behind. The mage knelt by Yara’s bed, her tears renewed.

“She did it.” She laid her head on Yara’s chest, comforted by her beating heart. “I can’t believe it, Lara did it!”

“Yes,” Yara croaked. “And the Shards worked.”

Bethany’s breath caught.

“Then your memories…!”

Yara gave a slow nod. The truth sang in her thoughts, no longer shrouded; no longer the source of a decade’s worth of misery, but a part of her, whole and complete.

“I _am_ Elissa Cousland,” she whispered. “And I remember everything.”


	22. Chapter 22

Elissa sat by the cabin window, resting her head on her arms. Every now and then a sharp stab tore across her ribs, and she hissed through her teeth. It was worse when Eliza forced her to hold a pillow and cough, but it was for her own good. Magic could heal flesh and bone, but did little to relieve pain or prevent complications, or so the healer liked to remind her. Eliza was already unhappy Elissa was up and about after a mere few days, but Elissa refused to remain in bed. Nightmares of her accident were never far, and the reminder of her helplessness was too potent. She didn’t want to go back to that dark place.

Not after what she’d been through in the Black City.

A sigh escaped, and she winced again, her breath fogging the glass. Absently she touched the rune on her chest; the same place where her Warden pendant rested. Now she could clearly recall that moonlit night at Ostagar, and she shivered. How close she had come to throwing all that away, and only because she’d been too scared to face the past. To face _herself._

Her face flushed, and she turned aside, unable to stand her reflection in the window. How could she bear the title Hero of Ferelden when she couldn’t even deal with her own demons? She’d buried too much inside, content to blame everything on Morrigan’s fugue, and its release had almost completely consumed her.

She clenched her fist. _Almost_ was the key word; she’d still found a way to survive, and it was thanks to those who’d fought to keep her flame burning. She owed Bethany more than she would ever know, and she was determined to make it up to her. Especially after the way she’d been treating the mage recently.

Yet Bethany wasn’t the only person on Elissa’s mind. A certain red-haired bard was also never far from her thoughts, and Elissa bit her lip. The maddening tango of fear and longing flared once more, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It was nearly like being in the dungeon again, except this time she understood why her feelings were so conflicted.

The memory of Leliana’s cruel questioning stirred, and Elissa brushed her side where steel had almost severed skin. The bard had become so far removed from the woman she remembered, reveling in shadows once cast aside, and that shook Elissa the most. Leliana had hunted her, imprisoned her; had even been prepared to _kill_ her, all for a rumour she couldn’t prove.

Just thinking about it made Elissa’s stomach knot. She clenched her teeth. No matter how deeply her ‘death’ had hurt the bard, it was no excuse to spill more blood to sate her revenge.

_I wasn’t worth that…_

The cabin door creaked, and steps clacked across the floorboards. They were light and rhythmic, unlike Eliza’s unrefined pace, and Ryan was still fast asleep on his bedroll. Elissa caught a flash of lilac from the corner of her eye, and her pulse quickened.

This moment had been put off for long enough.

Leliana let out a breath, lowering her hood and dusting snow from her cloak. She came closer, pausing beside Elissa. Swallowing, Elissa shifted to face the bard. Leliana’s grey-blue eyes were hesitant, but filled with hope.

“Can I…Can we talk?” Leliana could barely get the words out.

Elissa closed her eyes briefly, managing a nod. She rose from her chair, returning to her bed. Leliana tentatively followed, and sat beside her. They remained in awkward silence for a moment, before Leliana spoke once more.

“Bethany tells me you remember everything now,” she began, licking her lips. “Is…Is that true?”

“Yes,” Elissa answered.

Leliana held her hand to her chest.

“Then you remember the Blight?”

Elissa nodded again.

“And you remember…us?”

Elissa tensed, bracing her fists in her lap. That vivid nightmare from the dungeon flashed through her thoughts, but she fought down her shudder.

“…I do.”

She found the courage to meet Leliana’s eyes, and the bard’s resolve broke. She threw herself at Elissa, wrapping her arms around her. Elissa hissed, her ribs smarting.

“Oh, sorry!” Leliana relaxed her hold, and Elissa remembered to take her next breath. The bard’s scent caught her, setting off a pang that had nothing to do with her healing wounds. “I just can’t believe, after all these years…” Leliana paused to wipe her eyes. “I thought the only time I’d see you as you were was when I’d join the Maker’s side myself.”

“Right,” Elissa murmured. Her gaze fell, and she felt warmth as Leliana took her palm in hers. Part of her wanted to lose herself in those grey-blue eyes, as she had done so long ago, but wariness held her back. How could she trust this same touch, when not so long ago it had been so willing to hurt?

“Still as talkative as you always were, I see,” Leliana smiled. She began stroking the back of Elissa’s hand. Elissa held herself rigid, afraid to betray her tremor. “There’s so much I have to tell you, so much I want to know…”

She made to caress Elissa’s cheek. A flashback of the dungeon appeared, and Elissa shied. The bard blinked, a flicker of hurt crossing her features. “What’s wrong?”

Elissa took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She released Leliana and shuffled back. Her palm grew cold again, but she ignored it.

“I’m sorry, Leliana,” she said. “It’s been too long. Things…can’t be like they were before.”

Leliana raised a brow.

“Well, of course they can’t be the same,” she conceded. “Time has made us strangers, no?” She leant closer, her breath teasing Elissa’s cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to…”

The cabin door opened again, and a frustrated sigh cut her off.

“Ugh, I _knew_ you’d beat me to it!” Alistair grumbled, but his tone was playful. “Only just found out Eliza was off to get supplies, so thought I’d chance a visit before she threw me out.” He shook the snow from his hair. “Not interrupting anything, I hope?”

Leliana rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Elissa rested her hands on the bed, secretly grateful he’d appeared. This had become uncomfortable enough.

“You’re looking a lot better, Elissa,” Alistair commented, taking the chair by the window. “I can call you that now, right?”

“Of course,” Elissa answered.

Alistair broke into a grin.

“You never do things half-way, do you?” he teased. “But this tops everything you’ve pulled before.” He shook his head. “It was bad enough that night we brought you back from Fort Drakon, all those years ago. This time we weren’t sure you’d wake up at all.”

Elissa grasped her Warden pendant. If only Alistair knew just how close it had been.

“Lahara is truly a gift from Andraste,” Leliana said, clasping her hands together. “She risked so much to bring you back, and we will never be able to repay her kindness.”

“I know,” Elissa murmured; another debt to add to her list.

“I still can’t get over it,” Alistair went on. “You were hiding right under my nose, and I never once thought about who you really could be.”

“I’m sorry.” Elissa bowed her head. “I didn’t mean to trick you. Even _I_ didn’t know…”

“Elissa.” Alistair’s expression turned serious. “Bethany’s told me everything, and it’s not your fault. Maybe Morrigan was a bit hasty casting that spell of hers, but even I have to admit she had good intentions.”

“ _Morrigan_ was the apostate that brought you to Amaranthine?” Leliana’s eyes widened. “I…I never would have imagined that she…” She trailed off, her jaw tense. “She could have told us!”

“No-one expected me to survive,” Elissa said. “Not even the healer who saved my life.”

“It still wasn’t right.” Leliana’s brow creased. “It…would have given me the chance to say goodbye.” She took a sharp breath. “I’d have done anything to see you again, just one more time.”

“Yet by the grace of the Maker, you’ve returned to us,” Alistair said. “We can at least be thankful for that.”

“For better or worse,” Elissa muttered under her breath. Like it or not, she’d escaped the clutches of death a second time. And with past and present together again, there was no other way to move but forward.

She was abruptly caught by a cough, and she groaned, clutching her chest. Alistair’s face turned crimson.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was really worried, you know? Didn’t realise I’d broken so many of your ribs…”

“And that’s why the two of you need to stop badgering the poor woman and let her rest!”

Eliza’s sharp tone cut through, and both Leliana and Alistair tensed. Swiftly they both rose, heads bowed. The healer flashed a wink at Elissa.

“O-Our apologies, Healer Eliza,” Alistair stammered. “We’ll leave at once.”

“I’ve been watching you two hovering these last few days. I thought you might sneak in while I wasn’t looking,” Eliza said. “I didn’t put Elissa under quarantine for fun, you know. I don’t want her to get an infection, and I’m sure you don’t, either.” She held her forehead. “Just a couple more days, and she’s all yours again, alright?”

“Alright.” Leliana brushed Elissa’s hand. “We’ll speak again later.”

“Likewise,” Alistair said. “And welcome back.”

He squeezed Elissa’s shoulder, before he took after Leliana into the snow. As the door closed, Eliza shook her head. She let her bag drop to the floor, sitting beside Elissa on her bed. Elissa remained silent, her gaze distant.

“Still a bit much to face her, isn’t it?” the healer said.

Elissa scowled, wishing she wasn’t so easy to read. “Who told you?”

“I don’t need to be told the obvious,” Eliza replied. “It’s not exactly a secret that the Hero of Ferelden and the Left Hand were…well… _close._ And given how you found each other…” She trailed off, deciding not to dig too deep. “Anyway, how about some good news for a change?” She picked up her bag and pulled out a vial. “I had to beg Quartermaster Threnn, but I _finally_ have some pethirine for you. Should stop you feeling like you’ve got glass shards in your chest.”

“Thank you.” Elissa took the pain-killing medicine. “You’re doing your father’s memory proud, Eliza.”

“Well, you’re certainly helping keep my skills sharp.” Eliza stood, patting Elissa’s arm. “It’ll all fall into place eventually, Elissa. It always does. Just hang in there.”

* * *

 

The chill breeze numbed Elissa’s cheeks as she stepped out of Lahara’s cabin. It was the first time she’d set foot outside since returning from the Western Approach, and it felt good to be back in the snow again. Dawn had just crept over the horizon, and the residents of Haven were preparing to face the new day. Fortunately no familiar faces had emerged yet, and so Elissa made for the main gates.

She tied her scarf closer, her breath misting in the air. She needed space to clear her mind, and a little sparring with the soldiers probably wouldn’t hurt, either. Yet surprisingly, her muscles didn’t feel too bad, bar her chest, nor was she particularly fatigued. Her Shard had protected her while she’d been asleep, or so Eliza had proposed. Whatever the case, the magic was a part of her now, although its after-effects remained anyone’s guess.

The soldiers let her into the training grounds, and Elissa glanced around, stretching her arms. Before she could draw her sword, however, a flash of red caught her eye. She turned, brow raised. Hawke was at the smithy, talking with the weaponsmith. She had a pack on her back, and Fenris and Merrill were with her, similarly loaded and leading pack horses.

Elissa frowned. Bethany hadn’t mentioned anything the day before.

“…and once they’re retipped, I’ll need a couple decent sharpening stones,” Hawke said.

“Sure,” Harritt answered. “Got a fine chest-plate that might suit your broadsword-wielding friend, too, if you’re interested?”

“That’s alright,” Hawke said. “Have to travel light, I’m afraid.”

“Suit yourself,” Harritt shrugged.

Elissa strode up the path, the heat of the forge banishing the cold. Fenris’s eyes widened, but before he could warn Hawke, Elissa cleared her throat.

“You’re leaving, Amber?”

Hawke jumped, almost tripping over the armourer’s anvil. Quickly she regained her footing, her face matching the colour of her tunic.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here, Yara!” she said. “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

“Thanks,” Elissa said. “And it’s Elissa now.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Hawke rubbed the back of her neck. “So you _were_ the Hero of Ferelden all along, hmm? Couldn’t say I saw that coming. You certainly lived up to your reputation, though.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Elissa said. That was when it clicked, and her brows narrowed. “Not hiding from Beth, I hope?”

Hawke winced. She cast a furtive glance to the gates.

“Alright, you caught me,” she said at last. “But you _can’t_ tell her. It’s been great and all, but I really have to get back to this whole Corruption mess before it gets worse.”

Elissa raised a brow.

“You won’t even say goodbye?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Hawke said. “But the moment Beth finds out we’re going, she’ll demand to come along, and I can’t allow that. Not when it’ll put her in danger.”

“And you don’t expect her to come chasing after you?”

“Not with you back,” Hawke said. Elissa huffed, and the Champion raised her hands. “Heh, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? But I know you’ll keep her out of trouble. Besides, she won’t be much good with us if her powers are blocked.”

“That’s still no excuse to walk off behind her back,” Elissa challenged.

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Look, just tell her…”

“Seems you’ll be telling her yourself,” Fenris broke in, pointing to the gate.

“What?!” Hawke stared, then cringed; Lahara and Bethany had burst through and were making a beeline towards them. “Maker’s breath, how did they find out? Varric said he wouldn’t breathe a word!”

“Well, the Herald was asking a lot of questions,” Merrill piped up, “so I told her where we were going. We don’t want her worrying, do we?”

“And it didn’t occur to you that she’d run straight to tell my sister?” Hawke held her hand to her forehead. “Merrill…”

“ _Amber_!”

Bethany’s voice rang through the forge, and Hawke pressed herself behind Fenris and Elissa. The mage stormed through them, confronting her sister. Hawke managed a sheepish grin, but it only made her sister growl.

“And just when were you planning on telling me you were leaving?!” Bethany spluttered.

“I’d have written, eventually!” Hawke insisted. Bethany’s scowl darkened, and the rogue swallowed. “Okay, I know what you’re going to say…”

“I don’t want to go with you,” Bethany interrupted. “I know you’re going back to fight Corruption, and I’m no help as a mage.” Her voice quieted. “But couldn’t you trust me enough to say goodbye?”

Hawke’s gaze immediately softened. She dropped her pack and pulled her sister into an embrace. Bethany wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m sorry, sis,” Hawke said, her eyes starting to glisten. “I didn’t want to upset you by turning you away. But I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Didn’t want to be caught shedding tears, I’ll bet,” Lahara said.

“I wish we didn’t have to do this so often,” Bethany murmured. She withdrew, gripping her sister’s hand. “If you need anything…”

“You’ll be my first port of call,” Hawke said, smiling. “Can’t hurt to have you as my Inquisition contact, and I’m sure you can wrangle anything I want out of the Herald.”

“Don’t push your luck, Champion,” Lahara snorted. “The Inquisition isn’t a charity.”

“Well, I’ve been pretty generous,” Hawke smirked. “You get to keep my sister _and_ the Hero of Ferelden.” She draped her arms around Elissa and Bethany. “Someone has to keep you in line, Herald, and I can’t think of two better people.”

“Ha, touché,” Lahara chuckled, folding her arms. “Look after yourself out there, Amber. And thanks for all your help.”

“Good luck,” Elissa said. “Keep an eye out for each other.”

“Of course,” Merrill said. “May the Creators watch over you.”

“Maker guide your path,” Fenris added.

“I wouldn’t mind an update now and then, too,” Lahara said. “Do keep us informed about anything interesting.”

“Will do,” Hawke said. She released Elissa and Bethany, clasping their hands. “Take care, you two. I hope we see each other soon.”

She reclaimed her pack and daggers, then took the reins of her mount from Fenris. Together they headed up the steep path. Elissa, Bethany and Lahara followed, stopping at the bridge to see them off. As they vanished into the mountains, Bethany sighed.

“Are you alright?” Lahara asked.

“I’m fine, Lara,” Bethany replied, tangling her fingers in her scarf. “Still upset Amber tried to hide from me, but I know why she felt that way.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “When the Maker deems it, we’ll be together again.”

The mage turned to Elissa, a grateful smile on her lips. “Thanks for stalling her, Ya…er, Elissa. But should you really be outside?”

“Eliza’s given me the all clear, and if I have to sit in that cabin for one more day I’ll go insane,” Elissa said. “No offense, Lara.”

“None taken,” Lahara said. “Nice to see you up and about again, anyway.”

“It’s only thanks to you,” Elissa replied. She bowed her head. “What you’ve done for me…”

“Don’t mention it,” Lahara said. “You deserved nothing less. Just don’t go splitting yourself in half again, yeah? I never liked treasure hunts at the best of times, much less in the heart of the Black City.”

Bethany raised a brow. “What exactly happened in there?”

Elissa glanced aside. Her near-miss was still too raw to talk about.

“I was…lost,” she said eventually.

“And I found her,” Lahara finished, catching onto Elissa’s discomfort. “But it’s not only me you need to thank.” She poked Bethany’s shoulder. “If it wasn’t for Beth and Leliana, I’d have never found a way into the Black City in the first place. Don’t forget that.”

Elissa’s eyes widened. She fingered her Warden pendant, lost for words. She hadn’t realised Leliana had also played an active role in freeing her.

_But it doesn’t change what she still did to me…_

“Anyway, now that’s done and dusted, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lahara continued. “What are your plans now, Hero?”

The question hung in the air, and Elissa let out a breath. She had been mulling over her options since awakening, but there wasn’t much to choose between. There was little point returning to Amaranthine; not when Alistair was here and the rest of the Grey Wardens were in disarray. She didn’t want to return to Highever, either—it had not felt like home since she had witnessed its fall, and the thought of facing her brother again was still too much.

That left remaining with the Inquisition, which wasn’t a bad idea in itself, but her growing apprehension around Leliana was not something she wanted to endure. At the same time, Zevran’s warning about the future still haunted her, and since it seemed intricately linked to both her past and the Breach, the only way she could find answers would be to stick around.

She would just have to learn to face her fear.

“I was hoping I could stay,” Elissa said. “Unless you still think I’m not a good fit for the Inquisition?”

Lahara’s mismatched eyes lit up. “You really want to help us out?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“Oh Elissa, I’m so glad!” Bethany’s face filled with relief.

“And your timing couldn’t be better,” Lahara said. “We received word from the rebel mages yesterday, and they’re happy to meet with us. I’m sure they’ll be even more willing to listen if we bring you along, too.”

“They’re sheltering in Redcliffe, aren’t they?” Bethany said.

“Yes,” Lahara replied. “Think you’ll be up to the journey, Elissa?”

“Don’t see why not,” Elissa said. It would be good to keep busy; it would prevent her thoughts from taking over. For a time, at least.

“Then I’ll see who else wants to tag along, and we’ll leave as soon as possible,” the Herald said. She held out her hand. “And welcome to the Inquisition.”

Nodding, Elissa clasped Lahara’s palm. The white rune on the Herald’s hand flashed, as did the one on Elissa’s chest. It was bright enough to glow through her shirt, and left a warm sensation in her throat.

“Would be nice to know more about these Shards, too,” Lahara commented, glancing at her hand. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” She gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you later.”

She sauntered back down the path, leaving Elissa and Bethany alone. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the Herald return to the gates, before Bethany started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Elissa asked.

“Oh, it’s just…” Bethany shook her head. “We did so much research into the Hero of Ferelden, didn’t we? Trying to prove your innocence, when all we really needed was a mirror.”

Elissa hesitated.

“Are you…okay with that?” she asked. “With who I really am?”

Bethany blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She rested her hand on Elissa’s shoulder. “It doesn’t change what we went through, or what you’ve done for me. You’re still the same person.”

“But I’ve been so cold to you.” Elissa glanced aside. “All you ever wanted to do was help, and I just kept pushing you aside.” _Like I always used to…_

“You were hurting, Elissa,” Bethany answered.

“That didn’t give me the right to make you cry,” Elissa countered. “After everything you gave up for me…” Tears prickled, and she swallowed back her sob. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m not going to accept that.” Bethany stepped closer, forcing Elissa to look at her. “You sacrificed just as much for me, if not more.” The mage touched her cheek. “And as Yara or Elissa, you’re still my sister. And family always stick together, no matter what.”

The last of Elissa’s resolve melted, and she snatched the mage into her arms.

“Maker, what did I do to deserve you,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Bethany murmured, returning the hug. “I’m so happy you’re back!”

Elissa withdrew slightly, brushing away her tears.

“I promise I won’t ever treat you like that again,” she vowed. “That’s no way for a big sister to behave, right?”

Bethany laughed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “Sis.”


	23. Chapter 23

Elissa brushed back her drenched locks, squinting through the rain. She was sitting behind Bethany on horseback, following the muddy trail to Redcliffe. A storm had chased them all the way from Haven, and it was only thanks to the Inquisition’s earlier expedition they had made such good time. Elissa’s hood was soaked through, her shirt plastered to her skin, yet even that was preferable to what she had left behind. Leliana had tried to collar her at almost every opportunity, and it had been all but impossible to avoid her. Elissa knew she would have to properly confront the bard sooner or later, but every time their eyes met, words would fail her. She just could not bring herself to speak the doubts that had crept into her heart.

To admit that perhaps it would be better if they let go of what had been…

Suddenly Bethany sneezed, and the back of her head smacked into Elissa’s jaw. Elissa groaned, her teeth clipping her tongue.

“Sorry!” Bethany righted herself in the saddle, her nose twitching. “Are you okay?”

“Ow,” Elissa muttered, rubbing her cheek. She knew the mage was not just referring to her sore mouth, but she would not bring the topic up if she could help it. “You’re not coming down with anything, are you?”

“Maker knows,” Bethany grumbled, taking the bait. “How aren’t you freezing, anyway? You’re as wet as I am!”

“It’s really not that cold,” Elissa insisted.

“Speak for yourself,” Lahara broke in. She shared a gelding with Alistair, and was furiously rubbing her sodden arms. “The sooner I get to sit in front of the tavern’s huge roaring fire, the better.”

“You should be thankful it’s just the rain you have to complain about,” Alistair said. “Last time Elissa and I were here, we had other ‘visitors’ to deal with.”

That did elicit a shudder from Elissa, and she bit her lip. That horrifying night had certainly been on her mind, but it wasn’t the memory of the howling undead that unsettled her. It was what happened _afterwards_ that was far more chilling. When she had selfishly tossed her duty aside, too ashamed to take responsibility for the blood on her hands, and had almost left Ferelden to its fate…

“Oh, I’ve heard all about that little escapade,” Lahara said, scrubbing rainwater from her cheeks. “Although I’m hoping the rebel mages won’t be similarly tempted to raise an army of undead.”

“Leliana has told that story many times,” Cassandra said, bringing her mount closer. “It is why Redcliffe named you its champion, is it not, Elissa?”

Elissa sighed, clenching her left hand. Her palm still bore the poisonous scar, and she felt it prickle beneath her glove. If only the Seeker knew the entire tale. Elissa might have defended the town, but her careless abandonment had almost made her pay the ultimate price, no thanks to Marjolaine. If Leliana had not caught up to her in the Temple of Sacred Ashes…

Thunder rumbled, and Lahara yelped, breaking Elissa’s thoughts. Alistair halted, and all eyes turned to her. Lahara grasped her left hand, her mark crackling energy.

“A rift?” She glanced around. “I don’t see anything.”

“It must be up ahead,” Cassandra said. Before she could continue, terrified screams tore through the air. Her eyes widened. “Hurry!”

Bethany dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, and the mare burst into a gallop. Mud splattered Elissa’s calves, and they wound through the hills. Finally they rounded the last corner, when a pulse of jade light erupted. The rift hung over the gates of Redcliffe, and the guards were caught between a flurry of demons. The horses whinnied, rearing from the flames, and Bethany fought to keep hold of the reins.

The mare’s hooves crashed to the ground, and Elissa jumped from the saddle. She snatched her weapons free, and Lahara and Alistair followed suit. Yelling, Elissa vaulted over a wounded guard, thrusting her sword through the Rage demon about to finish him off. It screamed, its burning limbs hissing in the rain. A kick to the chest sent it sprawling, and Elissa ran her blade through its belly.

“Plenty more where that came from!” Alistair shouted, ramming into a Despair demon. It howled, and a volley of fire from Lahara streamed through its chest. Alistair raised his sword, but the creature disappeared. Seconds later it rematerialized, latching onto Alistair’s shield and turning it brittle with frost.

Elissa sprinted to his side, and with a cry severed the demon’s arm. The Despair demon fell to the ground, writhing, and Alistair made to stomp on its neck. But before his boot made contact, it vanished again, and he hit the puddle beneath.

“What…whoa!” Elissa shoved Alistair against the gate, narrowly missing the ice lance that would have struck his head. The Despair demon was now above them on a ridge, shrieking. Lahara shot a bolt of lightning, and it crumpled into mist.

“How are they moving so fast?!” Cassandra snapped, duelling another Rage demon. It swatted at her, almost knocking her sword from her hands, when its torso became encased in ice. Bethany’s next spell blasted its arms off, and the Seeker smashed through the rest.

“This rift isn’t a normal one!” Lahara shouted. “Watch yourself!”

“Just one more!” Elissa called, running towards the remaining Rage demon. Alistair took after her, his sword held high. In unison they cut the creature down, and it collapsed onto the flooded road, flailing.

“Get clear!” Bethany cried.

Elissa and Alistair jumped aside, as lightning burst from the mage’s staff. The demon roared, when suddenly it stopped moving. Bethany’s spell blazed right through, jumping between the puddles and heading straight for Elissa. She tried to dodge, but a sudden heaviness fell over her, and her legs wouldn’t budge.

“Elissa!” Lahara swung her staff, summoning a gust of wind. Elissa was propelled back, just before the lightning would hit. It sparked past, tearing a deep scar into the cliff behind. Elissa dropped to her knees, the pressure on her limbs vanished. She blinked, staring at her hands.

What _was_ that?

“I’ve had just about enough of this!” Lahara raised her left hand, and the rift crackled. Teeth gritted, the Herald curled her fingers, forcing the energies to recombine. The crystals shuddered, trying to resist, but it was too much and they exploded. The rift disappeared, and Lahara doubled over, breathing hard.

“You okay?” Alistair walked to Elissa and offered his hand. Elissa took it, almost slipping on the mud.

“I’m alright,” she said, shaking her arms. “All of a sudden it just became so hard to move.”

“Not your Shard playing up, I hope?” Alistair asked.

“No,” Lahara said, wiping her brow. “This rift was distorting time. That’s why the demons moved so fast, and it slowed Elissa down relative to everything else.”

“Sorry.” Bethany’s cheeks were red. “I should have realised.”

“What I want to know is _why_ ,” Lahara went on. “Something’s not right here.”

“‘Ey, You there!” One of the guards approached, clutching his wounded arm. “Thanks for saving us. Are you the Inquisition?”

“We are,” Cassandra said.

“Thank the Maker!” the guard breathed. “You’ve come just in time. The rebel mages are out of control, you need to stop them!”

“Stop them?” Lahara raised a brow. “But they agreed to meet with us.”

“Don’t believe a word of it,” the guard said. “They’ve already allied with a Tevinter magister, and he’s all but taken over Redcliffe.”

“What?!” Alistair grabbed the guard’s collar. “How? Does the Arl…”

“Arl Eamon’s been forced out,” the soldier said, wincing. “Lord Connor’s with the rebels, but he can’t do anything about it, either.” He spat on the ground. “It’s all the fault of their bloody Grand Enchanter! Makin’ scummy deals with those crooked northerners…”

“I’d like to know what Fiona’s playing at, too,” Lahara growled. “She seemed so willing to negotiate in her letter. And this sudden change in the rifts, too; it’s no coincidence.” She shook her head. “This reeks of a set-up.”

“But what does the Grand Enchanter have to gain by tricking us?” Elissa asked.

“What do you think?” Lahara held up her left hand. “You can bet Tevinter’s had their eye on me for a while, and they’d definitely want a closer look at my mark. Though how this magister convinced Fiona is beyond me.”

“The mages have been desperate,” Bethany said. “It’s no secret they’ve been losing ground to the Templars for a while now. Fiona must have thought him their only chance.”

“I never thought this a wise option in the first place,” Cassandra huffed. “I will not let you walk into a trap, Herald. It is not too late to go back and approach the Templars instead.”

“No, I want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth,” Lahara answered. “Whatever Fiona’s thinking, we need to know what’s going on. And since Tevinter’s come to our doorstep, it’s our best chance to find out what they’re up to.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Alistair said.

Cassandra sighed. “Very well, let us see what the mages have to say for themselves.”

* * *

 

The atmosphere in Redcliffe was charged, and it had nothing to do with the ongoing storm. The residents continued their daily business, despite the rain, but they eyed the newcomers with wariness. Bethany hid her face in her hood, mindful of everyone’s staring. Lahara clenched her jaw, making a point to display her left hand, while Elissa kept a hold of her dagger hilt. Alistair hung back, quietly seething. His eyes blazed, and he kept clenching and unclenching his fist.

“Why does it always have to be Redcliffe that suffers?” he muttered as they walked towards the main square. “Can’t this place know peace for a change?”

“The town does seem to have more than its fair share of bad luck,” Elissa answered.

“Well, you’d better take it up with Queen Anora,” Lahara said. “She’s the one who offered the mages sanctuary.”

The vein on Alistair’s temple bulged. “Of all the most ridiculous…” He ground his teeth. “How could she do something so thoughtless?!”

“Um, don’t forget who’s standing right behind you,” Bethany said, raising her brow at the Warden-Commander.

“Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Alistair shook his head, sending raindrops flying. “I know the mages have had it rough, but that’s not an excuse to abuse Ferelden’s hospitality.” He sighed. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so quick to abdicate the throne…”

“ _You_ were in line to become Ferelden’s next king?” Lahara asked.

“Oh right, I keep forgetting not everyone knows that,” Alistair said. “Not that it means a lot now.”

“Seems you’re all full of surprises,” the Herald muttered. “Yara turns out to be the Hero of Ferelden, you’re Ferelden royalty…” She shook her head. “Anything else I should know? You don’t secretly turn into a werewolf every full moon, do you, Beth?”

“No, but sometimes I grow wings just for the fun of it.”

“Ha bloody ha…”

Their banter continued as they passed the memorial to the Hero of Ferelden. Elissa had to pause, surveying the bronze statue. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it—she and Bethany had come to Redcliffe when they’d been on the run—but now it was easy to spot her likeness in the fierce expression. A blush crept over her cheeks. Had they really needed to make it so big?

“Maker’s breath, it can’t be…”

A quiet male voice caught Elissa’s ear, and she turned around. A young mage stood before her, wearing tattered Circle robes. He had short mousy-brown hair, and vivid green eyes. Though he was much taller and sported stubble, there was no mistaking his boyish features. A face Elissa would never forget.

“Connor?”

The youth stepped forward.

“So you do recognise me,” he stated, though his gaze remained wary. “But that’s impossible. Everyone at the Battle of Denerim saw you die, Warden Cousland. All Ferelden mourned your passing. That can only mean…” His lip curled. “Begone, demon!”

He snatched his staff and threw a spear of ice. Elissa ducked, and it shattered as it hit the tree behind her. Startled cries rang through the crowd, and Elissa’s brows narrowed. Most of the townsfolk bolted, and she backed towards the statue. Connor snarled, readying another spell.

“Connor, calm down, I’m not a demon!” She held up her hands. “And I really didn’t die…”

“I won’t fall for it this time!” Connor made to strike again, when a flash of light caught his arm. Gasping, he dropped his staff. He spun around, only to meet Lahara’s outstretched hand. Her fingers glowed with the power of her Shard, and she cocked her head.

“I think someone shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning,” she said, as the others returned to her side. “No need to get so cranky. We haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Connor?” Alistair frowned. “Why are you attacking Elissa?”

“C-Commander Therin?” Connor glanced between him and Elissa, his lip quivering. “How are you both…this can’t…” He shook his head. “You should be in Amaranthine. And everyone knows the Hero of Ferelden is dead!”

“I promise this is no trick,” Alistair said, his tone gentle. “Elissa is alive, and I’m still Warden-Commander, just aiding the Inquisition at present.” He held out his palms. “We only want to help. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Prove it,” Connor whispered, his hands shaking. “Prove you’re who you say you are!”

Elissa tensed.

“If that’s what you need.” She reached for her right gauntlet and unbuckled the straps. Pulling it free, she offered her bare forearm, revealing the swirling scars. “This happened the night the undead army attacked Redcliffe, ten years ago. It was what forced your mother to sacrifice herself for the blood magic ritual.”

“What was his name,” Connor mumbled. “The apostate who carried it out?”

Elissa looked Connor in the eye. “His name was Jowan.”

Connor’s eyes widened. At once his wariness fell away, and he bowed his head.

“Only my uncle and those present at the ritual would know such a thing,” he said. “Please forgive me, Warden. It…It has been hard to tell what is real lately, with all the rifts and apparations appearing at will.”

“I can imagine,” Elissa said.

“But that’s why we’re here,” Bethany added. “If we can set things right again…”

Connor’s expression soured.

“You lost your chance,” he answered bitterly. “The Grand Enchanter’s sold us to Tevinter, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You can at least tell us what’s going on,” Lahara said. “I think you owe us for attacking one of the Inquisition without provocation.”

Connor’s brow wrinkled, but he managed a nod.

“Alright.” He retrieved his staff, then gestured towards the docks. “Come with me.”

He set out, and the others fell in behind him. The onlookers dispersed, and Elissa let out a breath. She refastened her gauntlet, the rain pelting across her face. Bethany touched her shoulder.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to being recognised, now,” she said, smiling softly.

“I could do without being mistaken for a ghost,” Elissa murmured.

“The price of fame, eh?” Lahara quipped. “Seriously though, you alright? Can’t have been nice to have that sprung on you.”

“I’m fine, Lara,” Elissa answered. “It was a long time ago, it doesn’t affect me like it used to. And thanks for intervening.”

“No problem,” Lahara said. “Besides, it wouldn’t do much for the Inquisition if you were seen fighting a mage. Even if he _did_ start it.” She flicked raindrops from her fingers. “Well, better see what mess we’ve got ourselves into this time. I can’t wait.”

They hurried through the downpour, the boats jostling against their tethers in the quay. Cassandra and Alistair ushered them inside a small warehouse, then closed the door behind them. Connor lit a lantern, bathing the darkness in warm light. The group sat on the scattered crates, wringing their soaked cloaks. Connor lowered his hood, taking a seat himself. He spent a moment to gather his thoughts, before he spoke.

“We’ve been sheltering here for almost a year,” he began. “After we lost Kinloch Hold to the Templars, Grand Enchanter Fiona petitioned Queen Anora for asylum. Both she and Father were glad to offer Redcliffe, and at first it wasn’t so bad.” His face fell. “But since the peace talks fell apart, the trouble’s gotten worse.”

“I’ll bet,” Lahara said. “We spent enough time clearing out the apostates and rogue Templars when we were here a few weeks back.”

“The fighting came too close, and it made us uneasy,” Connor said, “especially when the guards said they wouldn’t stop the Templars from coming for supplies.”

“So you panicked and decided Tevinter was your salvation?” Alistair offered.

“Fiona really believes Magister Alexius is our only chance,” Connor said. “He just showed up one day, and got rid of all the Templars on our doorstep. He promised freedom from this senseless war, and it was enough to have us chomping at the bit.” His shoulders slumped. “We’re so, so tired, Commander. I’ve lost many friends, all of Thedas is against us, and I don’t want to fight anymore. Then with these rifts appearing as well…” He shook his head, holding a hand over his eyes. “I…thought I saw my mother a few times, only for her to turn into a demon and attack.” He gritted his teeth. “That’s why I couldn’t believe it was you, Warden Cousland. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Connor,” Elissa said, sympathetic. “But you can understand that siding with Tevinter leaves you very vulnerable.”

“I just want this to _end_ ,” Connor said, his voice cracking. “I…I don’t like being here. It’s not where I belong; it’s not where the mages belong. And everyone won’t stop _staring_ …”

Elissa’s gaze softened. It seemed even as the Arl’s son, there was no love for him amongst the people. He would always be the monster who had caused the tragedy ten years ago; the one which had also cost his mother’s life.

“We can still salvage this,” Lahara said, thumping her fist against her thigh. “If we can talk Fiona out of this deal, a bit of gentle persuasion will get this magister packing. Then the Inquisition can give you sanctuary from the Templars.”

“In return, the mages must help us seal the Breach,” Cassandra added.

“You’ll have to discuss that with Fiona, then,” Connor said, “since she still carries overall responsibility. She’s in the tavern. I can take you to her.”

“Sounds good,” Lahara said. Her brows narrowed. “And for your sake, I hope she’s in a talkative mood.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering about the non-canon DAO references, all events that happened are detailed in my other fic, ‘Choices’, if you wanted some context…

The _Gull and Lantern_ was almost completely empty, and Elissa frowned. She had never seen a tavern so devoid of patrons, especially with such miserable weather outside. Connor shook the rain from his hair, glancing around the barren tables. Only a single group of mages were seated, and they rose as the newcomers entered. Grand Enchanter Fiona was amongst them, still dressed in the robes of her former rank. At once her eyes fell to Alistair, and her mouth hung open. The Warden-Commander raised a brow.

“Well met, Grand Enchanter,” he said, giving a formal nod.

Fiona blinked, quickly regaining composure.

“…greetings, Warden-Commander Therin,” she said, finding her voice. “I see you have brought the Inquisition, as well.” Her brows narrowed slightly. “I was not aware it was Grey Warden policy to become involved in current affairs these days.”

“He’s not here on behalf of the Wardens,” Lahara said, stepping forward. “I’m Lahara Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, and _I_ speak for the Inquisition.”

Fiona managed a nod. “Then allow me to extend my greetings to you, too.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Bethany muttered.

“The Inquisition wish to meet with you, Grand Enchanter,” Connor said. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

“I suppose it was inevitable that you would come,” Fiona answered, resting against the table. “But I am afraid whatever brought you here, the situation has changed.”

“Whatever brought us here?” Lahara’s brow twitched. “Uh, have the rifts frazzled your memory or something? _You_ were the one who accepted our request for help!”

“I did no such thing,” Fiona replied.

Elissa scowled, her grip tightening on her dagger hilt. This had to be a trick. Yet there seemed nothing but sincerity in the Grand Enchanter’s voice. Either she was a fantastic actress, or…

“Oh yeah?” Lahara snatched a parchment from her pouch, then slammed it onto the table beside Fiona. “That’s your signature, isn’t it?”

Fiona stared. Her eyes skimmed the letter, and slowly widened.

“I…yes, this is my handwriting.” She folded the parchment, holding a hand to her temple. “But I swear I do not recall writing this!”

“Are you trying to play us for fools, Grand Enchanter?” Alistair asked, a slight edge to his voice. “Or has someone been using your name in vain?”

“I…I do not know,” Fiona admitted, averting her gaze. “But now you have brought this to me, I must admit I have felt a little strange recently.”

“Something weird is going on here,” Bethany murmured, casting a nervous glance around.

“Either way, does it truly matter?” Cassandra asked, folding her arms. “The Inquisition wanted an audience with you, Grand Enchanter, and it seems we have just that. We would like to negotiate for the mages’ aid in sealing the Breach.”

Fiona stiffened. “I am afraid I no longer have the authority to speak on such matters. Our rights have been pledged to another.”

“So who do we speak with, then?” Lahara pressed.

As Fiona opened her mouth to reply, the tavern doors groaned. Elissa turned, as three men stepped inside. They wore Tevinter robes, and the one dressed in red appeared to be their leader. Wringing out his cloak, he stood tall and smiled, though it was anything but warm.

“Ah, Grand Enchanter…or should I say, _former_ Grand Enchanter,” he said, making sure to emphasise the word. Fiona bristled, but said nothing. “I apologise for the delay. I was caught by a few other matters.” His gaze fell to Lahara, and his beaming faltered a little. “You did not tell me you had guests?”

“They were…somewhat unexpected,” Fiona said, her jaw tense. “Inquisition, may I present Magister Gereon Alexius. We are his charges now.”

“The Inquisition?” Alexius’s features lit up once more, and Elissa bit back a shiver. Just the sight of him made her skin crawl. “You should have said something earlier, Fiona. Had I known we would be graced with the Herald’s presence, I would have prepared a more fitting welcome.”

“We’ll let it slide this time,” Lahara said, meeting the magister’s gaze.

“Ah, and you must be the legendary Herald,” Alexius answered, eyeing her almost hungrily. “I’ve heard so much about you, Lahara Trevelyan. And I look forward to finding out more.”

Even Lahara couldn’t hide her shudder, and she subconsciously stepped closer to Elissa. She swallowed, trying to compose herself.

“Well, I’m sure you must be busy, Magister, as are we,” she said, fingering her collar. “Mind if we cut straight to the chase?”

“Not at all,” Alexius said. He turned to the young man beside him. “Felix, summon a scribe, if you please?”

Felix nodded, whispering to the other man. The latter fled back into the rain, and Alexius gestured to the table. Reluctantly Lahara followed him, then took the seat Felix drew for her. Elissa and Cassandra stood behind her, while Bethany and Alistair stuck close to the doors. Felix took his place beside his father, holding his hands behind his back.

“I can already guess why you have sought us out,” Alexius said, resting his elbows on the table and knitting his fingers together. “Containing the Breach is not a feat many would attempt. It would take quite a force indeed, and I am unsure if even every mage under my care would be enough.”

Lahara sat as tall as she could, leaning forwards.

“Well, we need to start somewhere,” she said. Her mismatched eyes gleamed, and she casually glanced at her fingertips. “It’s a pity you beat us to Fiona, you know. Then you wouldn’t have to get tangled up with all this.”

“On the contrary, I am very much interested in these phenomena that have swept the south,” Alexius said. His eyes fell to the Herald’s left hand. “In particular that _you_ bear a mark capable of…”

Felix suddenly groaned, holding his side. Alexius’s head snapped towards him. Felix swayed, staggering and almost falling. Finally his legs gave out, and Elissa bolted, catching him before he’d hit the floor. At the same moment, a slip of parchment was pressed into her hand, and she blinked.

“Felix!” Alexius sprang to his son’s side. “My boy, you should have told me you were feeling unwell!”

“Forgive me, Father,” Felix said. Discretey he pulled Elissa’s fingers around the parchment, so it would not be noticed. Alexius took him from her, oblivious to his son’s gesture. “Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“You will have to excuse us, Herald,” Alexius said, hoisting Felix against him, his earlier assuredness vanished. “We will conclude our business later.” He nodded to Fiona. “Fiona, I will require your assistance back at the castle.”

The Grand Enchanter bowed, before she and her group followed the magister out into the pouring rain. She beckoned to Connor, and he also went with them. Once they had left, Lahara raised a brow.

“Well, that was productive,” she mused, tilting her chair back. “Does my breath really smell that bad?”

“Maker knows,” Elissa said, “but something else is going on here.” She held out her hand, revealing the parchment. “Felix passed this to me when he fell.”

“Did he now?” Lahara took the note from Elissa, chewing her lip. “ _‘Come to the Chantry, you are in danger.’_ ”

“Aw, isn’t it lovely to feel so welcomed?” Alistair mumbled, clenching his jaw. “Running to the Templars really isn’t starting to sound so bad now.”

“Actually, I’m wondering if we might find some allies in this vipers’ nest, after all,” Lahara commented. “What do we think?”

“Tevinter are definitely up to something,” Bethany said. “And I don’t think it’s because they’re worried about the mages. There has to be a reason they want them so badly.”

“I agree,” Elissa added. “It also looks like Alexius’s forces aren’t as united as he believes, which could work to our advantage.”

“It could also be the perfect lure to get Lahara captured,” Cassandra countered. “We shouldn’t stay.”

“And turn our back on Redcliffe?” Bethany argued. “The people are already resentful; it won’t take much before they’ll start doing desperate things of their own!”

“And if this Alexius pulls something to retaliate, it could drag Ferelden into war,” Alistair added. “I’m sure we could do without another one breaking out right now.”

Cassandra pursed her lips. Eventually she let out a long sigh.

“I would have preferred not to get involved,” she admitted, “but even I concede it would be irresponsible to turn a blind eye to this.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Closing the Breach is the Inquisition’s main aim, but we are also here to bring stability. If this will help achieve that, then so be it.”

“Well, if that’s the consensus…” Lahara flashed a dark smile. “Let’s be good Andrastians and pay the Chantry a visit.”

* * *

 

The Redcliffe Chantry towered high above the docks, easily the tallest building bar the castle itself. Despite the grizzled clouds, its granite walls and stained-glass windows still gleamed, and Elissa sighed. It had expanded a little since her first visit, but even now the cries of the terrified citizens echoed in her head. She glanced to the porch where she had stood that fateful night, fighting the undead legion that had almost wiped them out…

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Alistair said quietly, stopping beside her.

“For a change,” Elissa answered, brushing her fingers against her Warden pendant.

“Heh, I suppose.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems like a lifetime ago, but I can still remember Leliana singing when they were preparing the funeral boats…”

Elissa tensed at the bard’s name. Alistair paused, raising a brow.

“I thought we put all that behind us?” he asked.

“Of…Of course we did,” Elissa murmured, taking an uncertain breath. Her eyes fell to the Chantry steps; where Leliana had taken an arrow for her that night. The bard had always been ready to defend her, whether with her bow or with her words, yet now such memories had become forever tainted. Too much had changed between them, and nothing held the same meaning anymore.

_So why can’t I let her go…_

A surge of warmth abruptly flooded Elissa’s chest, and she gasped. Her Shard blazed, and she pressed her palm against it. What in Andraste’s name…

“Elissa?” Alistair raised a brow, when Lahara also hissed. The rune on the Herald’s right hand was glowing.

“Uh oh.” Her gaze shot to the Chantry, and she drew her staff. “Careful now!”

The group hurried up the steps, tucking themselves beside the main entrance. Elissa drew her sword, pressing her ear against the thick oak door. The low growl of a demon was faint, but unmistakable, along with a grunt that was far more human.

Cassandra nodded at Elissa, and together they kicked the door open. At once Elissa was blinded with green light. As her eyes adjusted, she caught sight of a mage fighting a Rage demon. He smacked it with his staff, sending a jet of flame through it for good measure, before he turned to them, bathed in the glow of the rift.

“Fashionably late, I see,” he said, the edges of a Tevinter accent poking through. “You couldn’t help me close this, could you?”

No sooner had the words escaped him than the rift shuddered, and a new wave of monsters appeared. Elissa snatched her dagger free, charging alongside Alistair. However, as they neared the first Rage demon, that heavy feeling swamped her arms and legs. Alistair gasped, coming to a stand-still, and Elissa could barely fight the pull. The demon bawled, making to strike. Elissa strained against the invisible bonds, her Shard flashing fiercely, and at last overcame the draining force. At the final second her blade deflected the creature’s claw, and an icicle blast from Bethany sent it reeling.

“Alistair!” Elissa grabbed his shoulder. Alistair stumbled, broken from the spell. “You okay?”

“Looks like this rift is distorting time as well,” Alistair muttered. “Come on!”

They made for the demon again, swiftly sending it back into the Fade. A Despair demon groaned, shooting ice from its fingertips. Elissa dodged, taking cover behind a pew. A fireball from Bethany sailed overhead, hitting the creature square in the chest. As it flailed, Alistair grabbed the pew and flung it at the demon. The wooden bench crashed into it, and the creature vanished into mist. The rift pulsed, and Cassandra cried out, frozen in place.

“Cass!” Lahara shouted; the Seeker was a sitting duck. Without thinking the Herald charged, her right hand ablaze. Yelling, she slammed her fist into the Rage demon about to attack. Brilliant light burst from her Shard, tearing through the creature like fire through parchment. The beast fizzled into nothingness, and Cassandra gasped, freed from the unseen hold.

“Thank you,” she said, renewing her grip on her sword.

Lahara acknowledged her with a nod, grimacing. Her Shard continued to flash, and she held her hand as if in pain. Bethany came to her, concerned.

“Lara, are you okay?”

“Just…peachy, thanks,” Lahara mumbled, wiping her sweaty face. “Hurry up and let me seal the rift!”

Bethany bit her lip, but didn’t say anything further. The Tevinter mage snarled, setting the last Despair demon aflame. Alistair hacked what remained into pieces, and it dissolved into the ground.

“All yours, Herald!” he proclaimed.

Nodding, Lahara raised her left hand. A prickle ran through Elissa’s chest, and she swallowed, warmth bubbling in her throat. Her Shard had never reacted like this before.

The crystals in the rift began to vibrate, and Lahara flinched. Her left hand trembled, and sweat pooled at her neck. She dug her right hand into her thigh, her Shard still flickering. Elissa tensed; the Herald looked liked she would pass out at any moment. And why was it taking so long?

At last the energies receded, and the tangled web collapsed on itself. Lahara’s eyes rolled upward, and she dropped like a stone. Bethany gasped, catching her before she cracked her head on the tiles. Elissa’s eyes widened.

“Lara!” The mage sank to her knees, pulling Lahara into her lap. The Herald wasn’t moving at all. Rapidly Bethany felt for Lahara’s pulse, drawing her close. A gentle breath tickled her cheek, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker, she just fainted.”

“I take it that doesn’t normally happen?” the Tevinter mage asked, replacing his staff at his back. “Will she be alright?”

“Yes,” Bethany said. “She only sealed another rift a few hours ago, it must’ve taken more out of her than she realised.” She brushed aside Lahara’s sodden locks. “She shouldn’t have pushed herself.” She pressed her fingers to the Herald’s temple, and a soothing blue light escaped.

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s in competent hands, then,” the Tevinter mage said, his gaze softening.

“Who are you, anyway?” Elissa asked.

“Oh, do pardon my manners,” the Tevinter mage said. He gave a bow. “I am Dorian of House Pavus, and most recently of Minrathous. A pleasure, Inquisition.”

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra grumbled. “We had better watch this one, too.”

Dorian chuckled. “I suppose I should expect as much, given what has been occurring lately.” He glanced to Lahara. “She’s certainly very talented to control such power. It’s no wonder Alexius is so interested in her.”

“Just what exactly is going on here?” Elissa tensed her grip on her sword. “If this is some kind of ruse…”

“No, no, not at all,” Dorian said, raising his hands. “You saw what Felix had to pull to get Alexius off your back. There is more going on than perhaps you realise, and you won’t be able to face him without our help.”

“But why?” Alistair asked.

Before Dorian could answer, Lahara’s eyelids flickered. Bethany dispersed her healing spell, and the Herald grumbled. Lahara’s mismatched eyes opened, and for a moment she stared blankly. Then she blinked, returning to the present.

“Ugh, remind me to lay off the ale next time…” She shook her head, sitting up, when her attention fell to Dorian. “Oh, hello there. And you are?”

“Dorian Pavus,” the Tevinter mage said. “A friend and hopefully ally to you, dear Herald. As is Felix, whenever the Maker decides he should grace us with his…”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Elissa looked to the doorway, where Felix was making his way inside. He closed the door, removing his soaked hood.

“Took your time,” Dorian chided.

“I shouldn’t have played the illness card,” Felix answered. “Father was doting on me endlessly, I thought I’d never get away.”

Lahara raised a brow. She pulled herself to her feet, although Bethany was reluctant to let her stand on her own.

“Er, call me mad, maybe,” she began, “but might I ask why you’re working behind your father’s back?”

“Because what he’s doing _is_ madness,” Felix said simply. “And you’re the only ones who can put a stop to it.”

“Alexius was my mentor for many years,” Dorian added, “and I too am very concerned about the path he’s chosen to follow recently.” A pained look crossed his features. “It’s a long story, but I’ll try to be as brief as I can.” He took a breath, glancing to where the demons had emerged. “As you must have noticed, the rifts around this area aren’t quite the same as the others.”

“They warp time,” Elissa supplied.

“Correct,” Dorian said. “Speeding it up and slowing it down relative to the present. And this is happening because Alexius used a specific kind of magic to get here before you could.” He grimaced. “One that _I_ helped him create.”

Bethany’s jaw clenched.

“Why is he so desperate to get the southern mages?” she asked. “Tevinter is hardly short of them, is it?”

“He did it because he was ordered to,” Felix said. “He’s joined a cult who call themselves the Venatori, a bunch of Tevinter supremecists.” He looked to Lahara, his face grave. “They serve an ‘Elder One’, and he is desperate to have you, Herald, or rather, the mark on your hand.”

“It’s nice to be wanted, I guess,” Lahara quipped. “Although it seems a bit of a convoluted way to go about it.”

“The Venatori are not as powerful as they like to think,” Dorian said. “They lack the forces to confront you directly, so this was the next best thing.”

“And Alexius knew we’d need the mages,” Bethany said. “Through taking them out from under you, he’ll force you to bargain yourself, Lara.”

“Precisely,” Dorian said.

“Then that’s also why Fiona can’t remember writing the letter,” Alistair mused. “He must’ve travelled to a point before she did, and set a new course of events.”

“Sadly, it gets worse,” Dorian went on. “The magic Alexius is using is highly unstable, and coupled with the proximity of the rifts, it will easily spread. If left unchecked, it could unravel space-time itself, and that will prove a far greater danger than even the Breach.”

“So, I take it you have a brilliant plan all ready and waiting for us?” Lahara asked.

“We need to tip the odds back in your favour,” Felix said. “Father will host the next negotiation in the castle, but it will be heavily guarded, and he won’t let you walk out. But he won’t know about me and Dorian, so…”

“Hmph, so I get to be bait?” Lahara scoffed. She folded her arms. “Can’t say I’m keen to walk into the lion’s mouth. But if there’s really no other option…”

“Wait,” Elissa said, an idea sparking. “Maybe there is another way.” She glanced to Alistair. “Remember how we got into the castle via the windmill when the gates were sealed to us?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Alistair said, catching onto Elissa’s line of thought. “There’s a secret tunnel there that opens into the dungeons.”

“We would not be able to move a large force through such a passage,” Cassandra said.

“We wouldn’t need to,” Elissa said. “A few scouts to infiltrate and cut down the guards, with a backup force waiting here, would be enough. Then Alexius would be on the back foot, and he won’t be in a position to demand anything.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before, Hero,” Lahara said. “I’m so glad you decided to stick around.”

Elissa’s cheeks flushed, and Alistair playfully prodded her shoulder. It seemed even she was slipping into old habits.

“It’s all settled then,” Dorian said. “When you receive Alexius’s summons, please allow me to accompany you. He will have wards around the castle, and you’ll need me to undo them.”

“I’m all for bolstering our chances,” Lahara said. “Right, Cassandra?”

“The Inquisition would welcome such aid,” the Seeker said. “I will send word to Leliana. Once we have a time for the meeting, her agents can infiltrate the castle.”

“Oh, this is so exciting,” Dorian chimed. “I haven’t enjoyed a bit of cloak and dagger for…hmm, at least several months.”

“I had best return, before Father gets suspicious,” Felix said. “Good luck Inquisition, and I will do whatever else I can to help you.” He sighed. “My father was a good man, but…he’s drifted too far now. I understand you must use all measures to stop him, but if you could…”

“We’ll try not to turn it into a complete blood-bath,” Lahara said. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Felix smiled. “At least you will consider it, and that is enough for me.” He bowed. “Farewell.”

“I will also be taking my leave,” Dorian said. “Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I plan to keep it that way. I will be in touch.” With a nod, he followed Felix out into the rain.

A brief silence settled over the group, until Alistair cleared his throat.

“We should prepare ourselves, too,” he said. “It’s only going to get messier from here on out.”

“Right,” Elissa said.

“Are you really alright, Lara?” Bethany asked, pressing the back of her hand to Lahara’s forehead. The Herald blushed, and squirmed out of the mage’s hold.

“I’m fine, stop being such a mother hen!” she insisted. Bethany pouted, and Elissa couldn’t hold back her chuckle. It was only natural for the mage to be so concerned.

“We should make camp at the Crossroads,” Cassandra said. “It will take time for Leliana to gather the numbers we need, and I would rather not wait under Magister Alexius’s nose.”

“You and me both,” Lahara replied. “I’d take the freezing rain over that creep’s face anyday.”

They made for the exit, returning to the storm. The rainfall was starting to lessen, and slivers of sunlight dared to creep through the blackened clouds. With the visibility improved, Elissa could pick out the windmill that stood on the hill above the lake. The irony that it was thanks to her restored memories they had a plan wasn’t lost on her. Was this what Zevran had been talking about…

“Just like old times,” Alistair murmured, his gaze also upon the windmill. “Except I’m going to adore wiping that smug look off that damned magister’s face. With my sword.”

“Me too,” Bethany added. “Who does he think he is, swaggering around like he owns the place, treating the mages like slaves?” Her fist clenched. “If he so much as lays a finger on any of them…”

“Hey, you two still have to play nice for a while,” Lahara broke in. “Just give me a chance to sweeten him up a little, and on my signal, you can let loose.”

* * *

 

Elissa licked her lips, her throat parched as she followed Lahara through the gates of Castle Redcliffe. Bethany and Alistair walked alongside, keeping a close eye on their surroundings. Alexius’s guards were everywhere; it seemed the magister was taking no chances. Elissa tried to pay them little heed, knowing by now Leliana’s scouts would have filled every nook and cranny of the keep. Despite her mixed feelings, even she had to admit the bard was proficient at her role. Elissa and Bethany had been fortunate to avoid her for as long as they had.

The familiar earthy scent of the hall tickled her nostrils, and she found herself looking around. The place looked much the same as it had done during her last visit. The floors bore velvet carpet, various ornaments lined the dressers, and golden picture frames lined the walls; yet everything felt cold and empty.

They passed a particular set of stairs, and Elissa hesitated. She knew exactly where it led, and a tightness gripped her chest. Beyond those steps lay the guest rooms, where she and Leliana had spent their final night together, before…

“Halt.”

A pair of guards called out from the main chamber doors, and the group stopped. The men approached, descending a short staircase, weapons poised. Lahara squared her shoulders, undaunted.

“Magister Alexius requested only you, Herald,” the first guard said. “He will see no-one else.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Lahara answered, “but where I go, my companions go.” She braced her left hand, letting the mark glow. “And Alexius hardly had any issue last time. If you won’t let them through, then this meeting is over.”

The guards exchanged a nervous glance, unable to break their gaze from her left hand. Eventually they conceded, and stepped out of their way. Smirking, Lahara strode through the doors. Like the rest of the castle, a red carpet lined the tiled floor. Alexius was before the hearth, sitting on a makeshift throne. Felix was at his side, along with another guard and the Grand Enchanter. The walls were also lined with soldiers, all thankfully focused on the meeting at hand. Elissa caught a flicker in the shadows, but forced herself not to betray a glance.

“Welcome, Herald,” Alexius announced. He didn’t bother to hide his frown when he spotted who accompanied her. “And your…accomplices. Let us resume our negotiations, no?”

“Gladly,” Lahara said, stepping forward. “So, where were we?”

Alexius leant back in his seat, steepling his fingers. “You require mages, and I have them. But if I am to give something to you, then I need something in return.”

“That’s usually how negotiations work,” Lahara said. “But what does a poor, helpless Herald have to offer the magister who has everything?”

“Your mark.” Alexius stood, dropping all pretences. “A mark you should not bear, that was stolen from its rightful owner!”

“Was it, now?” Lahara said, frowning. “So who did I steal it from?”

“The Elder One will not let your meddling go unpunished, Herald,” Alexius spat. “You will hand yourself over and pay for what you’ve done!”

“Father, enough!” Felix broke in. “Why do you listen to the Venatori’s lies? They’re nothing but deluded extremists!”

“You understand nothing, boy!” Alexius snarled. “The Venatori are going to restore Tevinter to its former glory. The Elder One will raise the Imperium from its ashes, and usher in a new golden age for mages!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Felix spluttered. “This is not the future we fought for!”

“But he can save you, too!” Alexius gasped. “He promised me…” He shot a dark look to Lahara. “He promised me that if I brought him this woman, he would cure you!”

“Nothing is going to cure me,” Felix said. “I’m going to die, Father, and you need to learn to accept that.”

“Never!” Alexius pushed his son aside, his eyes livid. “Herald, there is no escaping me this time! I will get what I want!”

“Now now, no need to get so worked up,” Lahara said, raising her hands. “You should really listen to Felix, you know.” She flashed the magister a wink. “Oh, and by the way, I forgot to mention, I’ve brought a mediator with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“What?” Alexius frantically looked around, his brow creased. “Enough of the tricks, Herald! Venatori, you must…”

His words died on his lips, as the soldiers started to drop like flies. The scouts worked quickly, stepping free of the shadows, and then Dorian and Cassandra emerged. Alexius’s eyes bulged. “Dorian? What is the meaning of this?!”

“You have gotten yourself in far too deep this time, old friend,” Dorian said. “Restoring Tevinter to its former glory? A golden age for mages? This is precisely the kind of nonsense we strove to prevent from happening!”

“You’ve lost, Magister,” Bethany said, her eyes narrowed. “Now surrender.”

“You dare bark orders at me, girl?!” Alexius snapped. He reached into his robe, removing a silver amulet, and Elissa caught her breath. “I will not be defeated so easily!”

“Beth, get back!” Lahara cried. Elissa scrambled, and the two of them threw themselves in front of the mage. The amulet burst into life, casting amber light onto the pair. Dorian swore, muttering a counter-spell, but it was too late.

“ _Alistair_!” Fiona screamed. She bolted straight for the Warden-Commander. Alistair grunted, shoved aside, as the light grew more intense. Elissa yelped, her Shard pulsing, flicking through her shirt like trapped lightning. The chamber started to melt away, and her head swam. She dropped to the floor, grasping the tiles. Lahara, where was the Herald…Maker, her chest was burning…

Someone screamed her name, and then the world turned black.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some disturbing themes here, including major character death and torture, so be warned. If you dislike such content, you can skip this chapter and assume the future was just plain awful.
> 
> Also there will be POV switches between Elissa and Lahara from now- just lets me tell the story better!

The shock of icy water tore into Elissa, and she choked, bubbles escaping her mouth. Fortunately whatever pool she had landed in was shallow, and she clawed for the surface. She broke the water, coughing. It took a moment to get her bearings, and she shook her head, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Gasping, she paddled to the pool’s edge. Cold stone met her fingers, and she hauled herself out, her Shard still prickling.

She sat on the puddled floor, catching her breath. The main chamber of Redcliffe castle had disappeared. Instead she was in a flooded room. Rotted furniture was stacked against the walls, and the sickening scent of mould and old blood was thick. There was something else in the air, too, and it caught Elissa’s throat, leaving a foul taste.

“Lara?” She called for the Herald, but there was no sign of her. Tightness rose in Elissa’s chest. Lahara had been caught in the amber light like she had; so where was she?

_Maker, she couldn’t have…_

Wincing, Elissa dragged herself to her feet. She pressed her fingers against the rune on her chest, and it glowed. Very, very distantly, another similar presence echoed, and Elissa sighed in relief. She couldn’t use her Shard as precisely as Lahara, but the Herald _was_ here, just not nearby. She would have to look around.

Elissa groped the wall, the bricks rough beneath her palm. She clenched her jaw. Everything was too real and solid, so she was certaintly not in the Fade. Yet the foreboding in her chest told her that would have been preferable. Whatever Alexius had triggered, it could not have been good.

After a quick check of her blades, Elissa stumbled towards the broken doorway. It led to a chipped staircase, and she ascended, recognising the layout. It still _looked_ like Castle Redcliffe, but something was drastically different. Further, her head was starting to hurt, and it wasn’t as easy to breathe anymore. In fact, the pressing atmosphere reminded her of the caverns near Haven, where they had come across that concentration of…

Her breath caught.

_Maker, it can’t be!_

Eyes wide, Elissa broke into a run. She burst through the upper exit, into a ruined hallway. The rear wall had collapsed, exposing her to the open air. Elissa sprinted to it, staring into the broken heavens. Her stomach knotted.

“No way…”

The sickly glow of the Breach covered the entire horizon, stretching in all directions. Clouds broiled around the tear, churning in an endless storm as lightning ripped across their bellies. But that was not what made Elissa want to throw up. It was the dark mist that continuously spilled from the hole in the sky, sweeping the land like a fog of death.

_Corruption._

Elissa shook her head. This could not be. How was Corruption coming from the Fade, and in such quantity? It had always been confined underground, and there had been no pockets near Redcliffe, as far as she knew. Yet there it was, spreading like wildfire and with nothing to contain it. All that kept it from consuming the castle was a weak ward, but even Elissa could see that was on the brink of failing, too.

Maker above, what had Alexius done?!

Tearing her gaze from the sky, Elissa hurried through the roofless hall. She had to find Lahara. Whatever magic the magister had used, there had to be a way to reverse it. Maybe they could use their Shards, or…

A horrific shriek broke the quiet, and Elissa jumped. Her weapons came to hand, and she glanced around. The east wall collapsed, and a muscular black creature sprang. It looked exactly like the dust monster she’d faced with Hawke, horns and all. It turned, its eyeless stare unnerving, before racing straight for her.

Elissa crossed her blades, meeting its charge. Her boots skidded on the slick floor, and she growled. She swept her arms outwards, severing the beast’s left horn. The monster bawled, but Elissa didn’t wait. Yelling, she tore another chunk from its shoulder, its flank, its thigh, and it jerked its head upward. Her sword found the opening, and cleaved through its neck.

The beast crumpled to the ground, and Elissa wiped her brow, breathless. She made to sheathe her blades, but then the creature’s leg twitched. Elissa’s eyes widened. Swearing, she backed away, as the monster started to reform. Its head regrew, the holes in its body refilled, and then it let out a roar.

It lunged for Elissa again, and she rolled aside. It clipped her hip-guard, and she hissed, the metal scratching her thigh. Regaining her footing, she whirled round, facing the creature. A claw swung at her, but she leapt over it, and her sword sank into its chest. Her dagger followed, and she cut into every piece of exposed flesh she could reach. The beast shrieked, thrashing wildly. Something glistened in its belly, and Elissa’s Shard pulsed.

Eyes narrowed, Elissa dropped her blades. There was only one way to kill this thing for good.

The creature snarled, snapping its fangs. Elissa grabbed its jaw, wrenching it aside as she slammed her other hand into its stomach. Her fingers brushed something solid, and she gritted her teeth, the energy of her Shard pouring into her palm. The creature writhed, but it was too late. Fierce white light flared from Elissa’s hand, and the unseen object shattered.

The beast collapsed into mist, and Elissa held her hand to her chest, puffing. Fragments of red crystal dusted her palm, and she shook them off. It seemed Lahara wasn’t the only one whose Shard had bestowed new powers. At least she had a better way to destroy the dust creatures, should more appear.

Reclaiming her weapons, Elissa stepped to the broken wall. If these monsters were lurking around, she had to move quickly. She crawled through the gap, ending up at another staircase. The upper dungeons lay above, completely unguarded. Her steps turned to a jog, and she glanced through the cells, calling Lahara’s name. Andraste’s grace, where the hell was she?

As Elissa climbed the final set of stairs, however, a voice caught her attention. She blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating. Apart from the monster, she hadn’t come across a single soul. Wary, she clasped her dagger, honing her hearing. It appeared to be coming from the last room on the left. As she approached, she could identify the voice as male, although she didn’t recognise it.

“…time for another sip,” the man growled. His words were met with silence. “Why do you always stare like that?” The harsh crack of a whip echoed, but there was no following scream of pain. “Heh, it doesn’t even hurt, does it? You can’t feel anything, not anymore!”

That was enough for Elissa. Teeth clenched, she rammed her shoulder into the door, tearing it off its hinges. The torture room was cramped, and the guard and his charge were pressed into the corner, concealed by the shadows. He was holding a cup to her mouth, forcing her to drink a coppery-smelling liquid.

“What? Who are you?” The guard dropped the cup, brandishing a knife, but Elissa was quicker. Her fist crashed into his face, sending blood and spit flying, and her dagger ripped through his windpipe. With a gargle the man dropped to the ground, and Elissa stomped his neck for good measure. Assured he would not rise again, she hurried to the prisoner. Masked in the darkness, it was hard to make out her features.

“Hey, are you…” The rest of her words dried on her lips, as a pair of grey-blue eyes looked up at her. But there was no relief, or warmth, or even anger in Leliana’s gaze.

There was _nothing_ there at all.

“Elissa.” Leliana’s tone was flat, reciting a statement of fact. “You are alive.”

“Maker above, what happened to you?!” Elissa cut away Leliana’s chains, taking the bard into her arms. Leliana’s face was covered with blackened scars, and the rips in her clothing revealed that they adorned her whole body. Cuts riddled her arms and torso, some badly healed, others still fresh, and she’d all but wasted away. Her lip was swollen, her right cheek bruised, but there was no acknowledgement of pain in her gaze. Blood plastered her hair to her temples, and Elissa brushed her red locks aside.

That was when she saw the sunburst mark anointing Leliana’s forehead. Elissa’s breath caught, her chest impossibly tight. This wasn’t…it couldn’t…

“How…” Her hands trembled, and she almost lost her hold on the bard. “Tranquil…you were made _Tranquil_?!” She grasped Leliana’s cheek, her eyes wide. “But you’re not a mage, how is that even…”

“It matters not.” Leliana relieved herself of Elissa’s grip, standing up as if nothing had occurred. Elissa remained on her knees, staring at the broken chains. Nausea burned in her throat, and she clenched her fists. Who could have done such a thing, and to _Leliana, of all people…_

“Thedas is on the verge of annihilation,” Leliana went on, oblivious to Elissa’s disquiet. “And it is the fault of Gereon Alexius.”

Elissa bit her lip, wishing she could cover her ears. Such an empty, passionless tone should not have come from the bard. It was twisted, disturbing, _wrong_ , so fundamentally against everything she was!

_And I left her to this fate?_

“Tell me…tell me exactly what happened,” Elissa said, finding her voice again. If she was to have any hope of fixing this, she had to keep her feelings out of it. Guilt, regret or otherwise.

“You, Lahara Trevelyan and a Tevinter mage named Dorian were caught in a temporal rift when you attempted to ambush him,” Leliana answered. “I would estimate around six months have passed. During this time, the Breach merged with the smaller rifts around Ferelden and Orlais. As it did so, something happened within the Fade, and Corruption started to consume the world.”

Elissa held a hand to her mouth. Her thoughts flew to Bethany.

“What…What about Beth, the others?”

“Imprisoned, tainted or dead,” Leliana replied. “We became playthings for the Elder One, experiments for his research. But even he has not the power to stop Corruption, and his reign will be short-lived if Alexius cannot undo his mistake.”

Elissa swallowed. She raked a hand through her hair, taking a shaking breath. It was so hard to believe their absence had truly caused such catastrophe. But she could not deny what had unfolded before her.

“You said Lara and Dorian disappeared into the rift, too,” Elissa said, forcing herself to focus. “That means they still have to be in the castle, as well.”

“Perhaps,” Leliana said.

“Help me find them,” Elissa said. “Then we can seek out Alexius and stop this from happening.”

“As you command.”

Leliana walked to the slain guard, arming herself with his knives. Elissa turned away, barely able to watch. To think she had been so uncomfortable around the bard in Haven, unable to face the maelstrom of hope and hurt in her grey-blue eyes. But to see Leliana reduced to _this_ , where not even a hint of feeling passed her features…

Elissa clenched her jaw. If she made it back—no, _when_ she made back to the present, she would face Leliana and confess what was on her heart. She couldn’t keep hiding from the truth, no matter how much it would hurt them both. The rest she would have to leave in the Maker’s hands.

They strode out of the room, back into the upper hallway. Leliana was silent, awaiting order. Trying not to focus on the bard, Elissa studied the exits, deliberating which way to start searching. She touched the rune on her chest, wondering if she could track the Herald with it, when movement caught her eye.

She turned to the staircase, and her mouth hung open. Leliana drew her knives, but Elissa held her arm in front of her. A figure was approaching, but even with the hood, there was no mistaking the wisps of silver-blonde hair.

He halted at the landing, flashing a smile.

“Ah, that Shard looks good on you, my friend,” Zevran said, his Antivan accent shining through. “But you really should not be here.” He chuckled to himself. “In fact, ‘here’ should really not be here, either. So how about I give you a hand, hmm?”

* * *

 

“Ow…” Lahara rubbed her forehead, nursing the cut from where she’d scraped the floor. The smell of stale straw assaulted her nostrils, and she grimaced. She pulled herself to a sitting position, blinking back the stars that danced across her vision. She must have hit her head harder than she thought.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Dorian commented, rising to his feet. He offered his hand, and Lahara took it. The rune on her hand tingled, and she wiggled her fingers.

“What just happened?” The Herald studied their surroundings, willing away the dizziness. They were in a cell, but the door was ajar, and torches lined the adjoining passage. “Hey, weren’t we in the main chamber?”

“We were,” Dorian said. “It would seem we’ve been displaced.”

“So Alexius’s trump card was to teleport us to the dungeon?” Lahara scoffed, dusting her sleeves. “I’m starting to wonder why we were all so afraid of him.” Then another realisation hit, and her eyes widened. “Hang on, where’s Elissa?”

“I’m not sure,” Dorian said. He stepped out of the cell, tracing a finger over the walls. That was when his jaw dropped, and he spun round. “Maker, he’s not only displaced us in space. He’s also displaced us in time!”

Lahara’s breath stuck in her throat.

“Mother of Andraste, he did _what_?!” She stormed through the bars, grabbing Dorian by the collar. “Where’s he sent us, forward or back? And how far? Can we even get back? Did Elissa fall through with us?”

“All very excellent questions,” Dorian said, gently prizing Lahara’s fingers off. “Alas, they are also ones I have no answer to at present. No pun intended, of course.”

Lahara sighed, holding a hand to her temple. This was bad, very bad.

“Well, we’d better start finding out,” she said, heading for the stairs. “There’s a book I still want to finish back in Haven, and I’ll be torn if I don’t know how it ends.”

“Good to know you have your priorities sorted,” Dorian chimed.

“That, and I’d like to see Elissa in one piece, too,” Lahara added. “I didn’t spend all that effort to break her out of the Fade to lose her in a time rift.”

“There certainly seems something between you and her,” Dorian said.

“We’re not dating, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“No, I mean there’s a connection you share,” Dorian said. “I sensed an unusual mana back in the Redcliffe Chantry, and it was coming from the two of you.”

“Oh, you mean _this_?” Lahara held up her right hand, and her Shard sparked. Dorian gasped. “That was quite observant of you. Elissa has the same rune, too.”

“And here I thought having one miracle mark was showing off,” Dorian said. His eyes filled with curiosity. “What in the Maker’s name is that?”

“It’s called a Shard of Andraste, and I’ll be more than happy to give the low down later,” Lahara said. “But you know, you’ve just given me an idea. Wait here a second.”

They stopped in the middle of the stairs, and Lahara concentrated on her right hand. The rune burned, and Lahara hissed. She reached out with the magic, seeking the similar song as she had done in the Fade. Ever so faintly, she caught a distant hum, but there was too much other noise to pinpoint it. Her brow creased, and she eventually dropped her hand.

“She’s definitely here,” she said, “but I can’t trace her.”

“Guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Dorian said. “Also, if we can find Alexius, assuming he’s still around, I might be able to reverse this spell, as well.”

“Great, looks like you might be useful, after all,” Lahara replied, flicking his shoulder. “Come on.”

They made for the stairs, climbing to the next floor. It opened into a narrow passage, and a tickle settled in Lahara’s throat. The air became heavier, and the Herald coughed. She frowned. This sensation, as if an invisible weight was smothering her…

“What is this strange feeling?” Dorian asked, rubbing his neck. “It’s like the entire sky is trying to force itself on top of me.”

Lahara’s jaw tightened.

“I have a few ideas,” she murmured, “but you’d better pray to the Maker I’m wrong.”

They hurried to the end of the passage, and entered the courtyard. The gates were mangled, the bridge leading to the town destroyed, and the ground was cracked. Everything was tainted jade, and the Herald’s gaze turned skywards. Dorian also stared, wide-eyed.

“Is…Is that _the Breach_?” Lahara’s voice quivered.

“It would seem so,” Dorian answered, holding his chin. “And it looks like something is pouring through it from the Fade.”

Lahara swore, and the Tevinter mage raised a brow. “I take it your hunch was right, then?”

“This is worse than you could ever even imagine,” Lahara said. “We have to find Elissa, now!”

She turned back to the castle, about to approach the main doors, when a screech tore across the courtyard. On instinct Lahara ducked, and a shadowed mass passed overhead, the movement ruffling her hair. Next a burst of flame erupted, and Lahara rolled away. A Rage demon emerged from the ground, while the black creature guarded the entrance, gnashing its teeth.

“Not this again,” Lahara muttered. Dorian brandished his staff, but she shook her head. “That’s not going to work.”

“What? Why?” Dorian made to cast an ice spell, yet no mana appeared. His face paled. “But how can this be? I’ve barely used any magic...”

“Hope you’re handy with a knife,” Lahara said, tossing the Tevinter mage her emergency dagger. “I’ll deal with the dust monster.”

“Lahara, are you insane?” Dorian blurted. “I can’t fight like this!”

“Then use those good looks of yours to keep the Rage demon off my back!”

Lahara broke into a sprint, clenching her hand into a fist. The Shard’s power flared, and she tore her way towards the dust creature. It howled, making to strike, but Lahara caught its claw. Her Shard blazed, and the creature screamed, its limb dissolving. Lahara grinned, throwing it against the wall.

She ripped into its chest, and her fingers brushed something smooth and hard. Wrenching her arm free, a red crystal came into her palm. The dust monster shrieked, trying to claw Lahara’s throat, but she crushed the crystal between her fingers. The beast fell still, and its body turned to ashes.

“Nice trick!” Dorian called; he’d found a rusted sword and was keeping the Rage demon at bay. “Think you can do the same for the other two?”

Lahara blinked, scanning the courtyard again. Sure enough, another pair of dust creatures had burst from the wall. Their heads swivelled towards her, and they shrieked.

“Come and get me, then!” Lahara jeered.

She bolted down the steps, meeting the first monster. It snapped its jaws, tearing her jacket, but Lahara countered with a punch. Her palm sank into its neck, and she sifted through the darkness until she found the crystal. Tearing it from its body, she threw it to the ground, shattering it with her foot. The next creature bawled, lunging with surprising speed. Lahara yelped, knocked off balance. She hit the edge of the bottom stair, cutting her lip, and groaned.

Before the beast could press its advantage, however, Dorian was there. He swung his staff, kicking the creature aside. Lahara swiftly recovered, plunging her hand into its belly. Soon the crystal was destroyed, and the two mages were left in eerie silence.

“Well, isn’t this place just full of surprises,” Dorian remarked, returning the knife. “It looks like you can’t use your normal magic, either. Just what is happening here?”

“It’s because of Corruption.” Lahara sheathed her dagger, then pressed her sleeve to her lip, acutely aware they had no means to heal themselves. “That black mist blocks magic, and until recently we had no means to combat it.” She clenched the fingers of her right hand. “My Shard can help, but I can’t use it too much, either.”

“Well, we’re certainly in way over our heads.” Dorian shook his head, folding his arms. “But if this ‘Corruption’ blocks magic, reversing Alexius’s spell might prove…tricky.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Lahara said. “We have to.”

They trudged up the staircase, pushing open the front doors. A shiver ran down Lahara’s spine, a horrible taste souring her lips. She had to pause, swallowing the saliva pooling in her mouth. Why did she suddenly feel so ill?

Brushing back her sweat-soaked hair, she led the way into the passage. The path was strewn with rubble, blocking off the entrance to the master chamber. Clusters of red crystals were also scattered around, identical to the ones from the dust creatures. That was when it finally clicked, and she gasped.

“Red lyrium,” she muttered, recalling Varric’s stories when they had gone to stabilise the Breach. “But what’s it doing here?”

And why was it inside the dust monsters…

Before Dorian could answer, a pained moan echoed from their right. It was followed by a heavy thud, and the hairs on the back of Lahara’s neck stood on end. With a nod to the Tevinter mage, Lahara dashed to the fractured doorway. Kicking the splintered wood aside, she scrambled down the stairs, into a cellar. It was almost pitch-black, but the red lyrium provided light, enough to reveal the horror in the shadows.

A woman with dark hair stood before them, her back facing them. Veins of red lyrium ran up her arms and neck, pulsing with energy. At her feet lay a pair of twisted bodies, charred and torn apart by the red crystals.

Alistair and Cassandra.

“No…” Lahara’s voice was barely a whisper. She had to be dreaming. If those two had perished here, then that meant…

The woman turned around, alerted to their presence. Crimson scars adorned her face, her pupils blood-red, and she hissed. But even with the blemishes tarring her ivory skin, there was no mistaking her caramel irises.

Lahara couldn’t move, her tears frozen on her face.

_Please, Maker, anyone but…_

“Herald!” Dorian snatched her arm, shoving her into the wall as Bethany screamed. The tainted mage charged, her left hand turning to crystal. It tore Lahara’s shirt, and she gasped, the red lyrium burning her side. It was enough to snap her daze, and she clutched the wound.

“Bethany!”

The mage hesitated, the rage dimming in her eyes. But it didn’t last, and she ran at the Herald. Lahara braced herself, catching Bethany’s arms and struggling to keep her balance.

“Beth, snap out of it!” Lahara shouted. She willed power into her Shard, but Bethany shied. The mage disengaged, targeting Dorian instead. She flung out her arm, and shards of red lyrium burst from her fingers. Dorian jumped back, but he caught his foot on Cassandra’s body and fell. Bethany shrieked, lunging for his throat.

“No!” Lahara threw herself at the mage, wrapping her arms around from behind. “Beth, you have to fight it! This isn’t you!”

Bethany groaned, struggling to break free. Lahara yelped, the mage’s elbow digging into her wound, and eventually had to let go. She stumbled back, and Bethany’s hands flew to her neck. Lahara choked, fighting for breath. Bethany’s eyes narrowed, filled with blood lust.

_Maker…I have to…do something!_

Searching for strength, Lahara’s right hand shot up. She grabbed Bethany’s wrists, and her Shard burst into brilliance. Bethany cried out, and the pressure around Lahara’s throat vanished. The Herald shifted her grip, pressing her fingers into the mage’s shoulders, and they both fell to their knees. Bethany went still, the redness in her eyes dimming.

“Wake up, Beth!” Lahara shook Bethany, but the mage barely responded. “Maker, I know you’re still in there! You can beat this!”

“Lahara.” Dorian’s voice was soft. “I…don’t think there’s anything left of her. Maybe it would be better if…”

“You shut up!” Lahara barked. “You don’t _know her_!” She gave the mage a slap. “Beth, listen to me! You have to…”

Bethany moaned, broken from her stupor. Her gaze hardened, and she weakly swung at Lahara. Her fist grazed the Herald’s shoulder, and she fell into Lahara’s embrace once more. The red lyrium burned against Lahara’s skin, and she winced.

“Damn it, why won’t you _wake up_?!” Lahara clenched her teeth, shaking her head. “If Elissa or Amber were here, they’d know exactly what to say to snap you out of this.” Her eyes prickled again, and saltiness soured her lip. “But I’m not them…and I can’t be what they are…”

She took Bethany’s shoulders, forcing the mage to look at her. Those caramel eyes she so loved were empty, holding no recognition at all. The mage growled, trying to strike her again. Lahara bit her lip, trapping her in her arms, her tears falling uncontrollably.

“But I don’t love you any less than they do.” She took Bethany’s hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling her against her chest. “Please, Bethany, I’m begging you, _come back to me_!”

The rune on Lahara’s hand flickered. The light spread, trickling up the veins of red on Bethany’s arm. The mage cried out, the cleansing aura burning the tainted magic that had consumed her body. At last she sank into Lahara’s lap, her breathing ragged. But the crimson scars were gone, and when Bethany looked up again, her caramel eyes had returned to normal.

“L-Lara…” She squeezed the Herald’s right hand tighter. “No…no more…please…”

“Oh Beth!” Lahara cradled the mage to her shoulder, wracked with sobs. “It’s alright, I’m…”

“Elissa…I couldn’t…” Bethany whispered, her gaze growing distant. “Take me…no more, _no more_!”

Suddenly she yanked Lahara’s hand onto her chest, and the Shard erupted with white fire. Lahara screamed, but not just for her own pain. The rune’s power was too much, it would…

“Beth, no, _stop_!” She tried to snatch her hand back, but Bethany’s grip was like iron. “BETHANY!”

And then it was over. The mage fell limp, and Lahara bawled. Her tears redoubled, and she buried her face into Bethany’s chest. She was still warm, but there was no reassuring heartbeat, nor gentle breath against her cheek.

She was gone.

“Maker, why, _why_?!” Lahara’s shoulders trembled.

_Wasn’t my love enough to keep you with me?!_

“I’m sorry,” Dorian murmured. He knelt beside Lahara, his head bowed. “Whatever it takes, I will reverse this hell, Herald. Alexius will…”

“Alexius.” Lahara’s eyes narrowed. Her tears blazing, she gently laid Bethany’s body on the ground. “This…he…” She clenched her fists, baring her teeth. “He’s going to be _begging_ for death by the time I’m through with him!”

She rose to her feet, her jaw hardened. She didn’t care if it drained every ounce of power in her Shard, she’d see that he met an end so horrible, so anguished…

“You’ll have to let him live long enough for me to get the amulet,” Dorian reminded her.

Lahara’s mismatched eyes darkened.

“We’ll see.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly more graphic violence than usual here (it’s not terrible but noticibly more than what I’ve done in the past).

Elissa snarled. Zevran merely smirked, tilting his head.

“Oh my dear, such a scowl does not become you,” he said. “I thought you would be happy to see me, now that you rememeber everything?”

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face again!” Elissa seized her dagger hilt. “Have you gone blind, Zevran? Can’t you see what’s right around you?!” She took Leliana’s arm. The bard didn’t even react. “ _Look at what’s happened_!”

“And none of it is reality,” Zevran answered casually. “So you really should calm down.”

Elissa released Leliana, drawing her blade. How dare he, _how dare he_! If all that smug Antivan could do was mock her anguish, then…

“Stop.” Leliana’s voice cut through, still brutally cold, but enough to make Elissa hesitate. “It would be foolish to turn down such help, given what we are to face.”

“Our dear bard speaks sense,” Zevran said, “and you mistook my words, Elissa. When I say this is not reality, I mean this entire future is not part of the natural timeline. It is an… _accident,_ if you will, and while we are indeed experiencing these events, it is an unstable construct. One that will eventually collapse, and we must not remain when that happens.”

“How do you know all this?” Elissa asked, her fist clenching. “How have you known _everything_ from the start…”

“It is both my boon and curse,” Zevran answered. “After your sacrifice ended the Blight, our happy little band went our separate ways. The Crows however were not quite done with me, so I decided to take the fight to them. Better the hunted become the hunter, yes?” He brushed his fingers over the tattoo on his cheek. “Sadly, I made a terrible mistake, one that left me on the brink of death. Yet at the last moment I was offered a gift, in return for an obligation. The gift was my life, and so, here I am.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me that from the start?” Elissa shook her head. “I trusted you once, Zevran. You could have shown me the same courtesy.”

“Perhaps, but would you have cared to listen?” Zevran answered. “A mysterious stranger in the Deep Roads, claiming to be connected to the life you had forgotten? And I had other restrictions that prevented me from speaking freely. It was nothing personal, believe me.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Elissa muttered. “Who is your master, anyway? And what’s he doing with you?”

Zevran chuckled.

“I’m afraid that has to remain confidential.” He lowered his hood, and his eyes briefly flashed silver. “Nonetheless, while I would love to continue this discussion, we do have more important things to attend to.” He glanced to the rear staircase, where the Breach was just visible through the break in the wall. “While my master granted me extra power before sending me here, I do not think he anticipated the blocking effect of Corruption. My original plan therefore will not work.”

“So you’re just as powerless as we are,” Elissa scoffed, although inside she was trembling. If Corruption could shut off even Zevran’s newfound strength, what hope would anything else have?

“You are hardly powerless, my friend,” Zevran countered. “In fact, you possess the only means by which we can disrupt Corruption.” He glanced to the rune on Elissa’s chest. “All I would need is a temporary break, and then returning to the present will be child’s play.”

Elissa clasped her palm over her Shard.

“And how do I do that, since you seem to know so much about this magic?”

“That I cannot say,” Zevran shrugged. “I did not expect the Shards to split, and that does limit you somewhat. Had you all three pieces, things might have been easier.”

“Then we need to find Lara,” Elissa stated. “We’ll have to make do with two Shards.”

“Now that _is_ something I can help with,” Zevran affirmed. “This way.”

He took the lead, sauntering across the hallway. Elissa reluctantly followed, glowering behind the Antivan’s back. Leliana walked in perfect step beside her, focused on the path. Elissa sighed, sheathing her dagger. So many questions ran through her mind, and the unsettling knot in her stomach deepened. She was desperate to believe Zevran, that this hell surrounding her was nothing but a distorted illusion, but she still wasn’t sure if he was ally or enemy.

And something else was bothering her, too. She hadn’t really paid much attention before, but while he looked, spoke and acted like the assassin she’d known so well, a tiny part of Elissa sensed an altogether different presence behind those brown eyes.

Just what ‘obligation’ had Zevran inherited?

They halted at the end of the passage. Zevran made short work of the lock, and the door swung open, revealing the castle courtyard. Even Leliana had to pause; the smothering heaviness of Corruption was thicker in the open. Elissa glanced around, biting back her nausea at the corpses of soldiers and demons alike. It was so much like the night they had fought the undead, and it was all she could do to stop falling into the memory.

“I sense…familiarity,” Leliana suddenly spoke. She raised her hand, brushing a spot across her shoulder. “I was wounded here, once.”

“Yes,” Elissa murmured. _And I won’t make that mistake again._

“Such terror and pain I recall, even now,” Leliana went on, her tone indifferent. “It means nothing anymore. Wasteful sentiments of a past best left forgotten.”

Her words struck, and Elissa had to turn away. The bard had always been awed at the beauty of the world, marvelling at its thrills and dangers despite the terrible betrayal she had faced. She had still believed in the light, even when the darkness had been so rampant. A faith she had once lent Elissa, carrying them both through their journey against the darkspawn.

_But my ‘death’ stole all that away from her, and now…she believes in nothing._

“I do rather miss your old sense of humour, Leliana,” Zevran commented, making his way to the front doors. “Your captors must have faced quite the trauma to have forced the Rite on you.”

“One of their many experiements,” Leliana answered. “It was to little avail. They gained nothing.”

“Indeed,” Zevran murmured. “But then again, it must hurt less this way, too.”

Elissa bristled. It did not go unnoticed, and Zevran paused at the top of the steps.

“Do not think I have ignored the toll this has taken on you, Elissa,” he said quietly. “This reality may be fake, but your past is not. Even so, there comes a point when it is time to let it go, lest the ties of suffering drag you down forever.”

Elissa said nothing. She had held onto that belief herself once, and it had almost cost her Bethany. But while she’d repaired her relationship with the mage, she had lost hope the same could be done for Leliana. Fate was pushing her towards the decision she’d been too afraid to acknowledge, and once she returned to the present, she would have to follow through with it.

They pushed open the main doors, stepping into a bleak corridor. Broken shards of red lyrium littered the ground, and they crunched beneath Elissa’s boots. Parts of the upper floors had fallen in, leaving very little room to walk through. Zevran however took an unfaltering route, weaving between the rubble and finding almost unseen short-cuts.

After wading through a rotted study, they came to another passage. All the while the red lyrium sparkled in the shadows, renewing the dull ache in Elissa’s temples. She held a hand to her head, swallowing. They had to be close now, surely.

Finally they arrived at the steps to the main chamber. Elissa made to ascend, when loud hammering broke through the quiet. Her eyes narrowed, and she bolted up the staircase.

“Why won’t the sodding thing _open_?!” Lahara screeched, battering her fists against the chamber doors. A seal had been branded across them, barring entry, but that did not stop the Herald tearing at the wood. Her Shard flickered, her right hand raw and bleeding. Dorian was also with her, nursing a cut on his shoulder.

“Lara!” Elissa dashed up the remaining steps, grabbing the Herald’s wrist. Dried blood stained her fingers. “What in the Maker’s name are you doing? You’re going to tear your hand apart!”

“Let go of me!” Lahara snarled, fighting Elissa’s hold. “I’ll kill him, _I’ll kill him_! _”_

“Herald, get a hold of yourself,” Zevran said calmly. “At this rate, you are more likely to break yourself than the seal.”

“I don’t _care_ what happens to me!” Lahara bawled, angry tears spilling from her mismatched eyes. “He’ll pay, he has to pay…” Her voice broke, and she collapsed to her knees. Elissa went with her, her arm around the Herald’s shoulders. Lahara was shaking uncontrollably.

“Dorian, what’s gotten into her?” Elissa asked.

Dorian sighed. “We…came across some of our companions, Elissa. They were all dead.”

Elissa’s eyes widened. A lump rose in her throat.

“Then Alistair, Cassandra…” Bethany’s name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. To even think that the mage had had to suffer so…

“This is not helpful,” Leliana said. “We do not have time to lament over what we cannot change.”

Lahara’s head snapped up. She sprang from Elissa’s hold, grabbing Leliana.

“How can you be so cold?!” She dug her fingers into the bard’s shoulders. “So long as your precious _Warden_ is alright, you don’t give a damn about anyone else!”

“Lara, please.” Elissa took the Herald’s arms, pulling her off the bard. Lahara hissed. “Leliana’s…not herself. And I know it’s hard, but you have to focus.”

“Why doesn’t anyone care?!” Lahara rasped. “Even _you_ don’t…” She held her face in her hands, her tears dripping through onto the floor. “Beth…she died in my arms, and I couldn’t…I never even told her…”

“She’s not going to die,” Elissa said, her jaw tensing. She wouldn’t acknowledge this horror; not anymore. Everything around her was a lie. _A lie_. “This whole reality is a falsehood, and there’s a way to break it.” She squeezed Lahara’s arm. “But I can’t do it without you.”

“Yes,” Zevran added. “Only your Shards can dispel the Corruption, and we will not get any further with it pressing down on us.”

Dorian raised a brow. “Oh really now? And who might you be?”

“His name’s Zevran,” Elissa stated. She hesitated, before casting the last of her doubt aside. “He’s an old friend of mine. We can trust him.”

Dorian pursed his lips. “Well, if you say so.”

Elissa sighed, wondering if she had made the right choice. Yet whatever Zevran was up to, he was still the only one who could undo this nightmare. It was all she had to keep from drowning in despair, and she had to make Lahara see that, as well.

“Come on, Lara,” she said, clasping the Herald’s shoulder. “You have to believe me. No matter what you just had to go through, I _promise_ you’ll see Beth again. We both will, and we can forget this ever happened.”

Lahara remained silent for a long while, staring at the ground. Elissa subconsciously held her breath, crossing her fingers. The quiet stretched on, almost unbearable, until at last the Herald brushed aside her tears. Taking a breath, she slowly rose to her feet. She looked to the seal, her mismatched eyes unreadable.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

“Unite your Shard with Elissa’s for a moment,” Zevran answered. “It should disperse the Corruption enough to let me break this ward.”

“How is this still working, anyway?” Dorian asked.

“It is part of the same barrier that surrounds the castle,” Zevran explained. “A great deal of power was used to create it, hence its resistance for so long, but it will be no match for mine.”

Nodding, Elissa stood beside Lahara, their shoulders touching. Lahara raised her right hand, and Elissa locked her fingers over the Herald’s. This had to work. The rune on her chest started to glow, and Lahara’s Shard echoed with its own brightness. Elissa caught the whispers of the Herald’s thoughts, and she bit her lip.

**_Wasn’t it enough…should’ve told her…never realised what she meant…Maker why couldn’t she hold on…she was hurting so much…I…I couldn’t…why had I never said I…_ **

_I’ll bring you back to her, Lara,_ Elissa thought. _Just keep fighting with me._

Lahara closed her eyes, and the pressing air suddenly lifted. The door seal flashed, and Elissa gritted her teeth. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, and sweat soaked her forehead. Lahara’s thoughts were on top of her, trying to swarm her own. She couldn’t hold this.

Zevran acted swiftly, slamming his palm against the ward. It shattered, and both Elissa and Lahara cried out. Elissa had to release the Herald, grasping at her chest. Burning pain lanced through her Shard, as if she had been struck with an arrow, and her breaths were sharp and ragged. Lahara hugged her hand, biting back tears. Fresh blood trickled down her wrist, and she whimpered.

“Maker, are you two alright?” Dorian came to them, his brow furrowed. “That looks very sore.”

“‘S fine,” Lahara panted, rolling her sleeve down and clamping it over her bleeding hand. “Not a lot…you can do…anyway.” Her face was pale.

“Then let us end this,” Leliana said.

She made for the doors, shoving them open. The stench of blood and burnt metal ripped through, and Elissa gagged. She staggered after the bard, Lahara limping alongside her. Most of the chamber’s torches had been extinguished, but a figure was still apparent in the darkness. It was a woman, and she was crouched over a corpse, her dagger bloody. The body belonged to a man, his face a twisted wreck, although still recognisable. His arm was outstretched, clutching the remnants of a silver pendant.

Alexius.

“No!” Dorian charged, his staff in hand. He stopped just short of the woman, his teeth bared. “What have you…”

The woman spun around, and Elissa and Lahara gasped. Blood-red eyes stared back at them, but there was no mistaking the rune adorning her forehead. It flared as they approached, and she snarled.

“ _Amber_?” Elissa could hardly trust her own voice. What was the Champion doing here?

“Shards,” Hawke muttered, a terrifying grin spreading across her face. She rose to her feet, licking the blood off her hand. “Unite the Shards, bring back Etro!”

She leapt at Elissa, cackling wildly. Elissa dodged, drawing her sword, yet even then her arm shook. How could she possibly fight Bethany’s sister like this…

“Amber, it’s us!” she tried, as Hawke circled her, like a wolf about to devour its prey. Her cry fell on deaf ears, and the bloodlust in the Champion’s eyes deepened.

“Unite the Shards, unite the Shards!” Hawke repeated; an eerie chant that sent shivers down Elissa’s spine. “Etro will save us, Etro must be reborn!”

She bolted, and Elissa caught her knife against her blade. She twisted, striking Hawke with the pommel of her dagger. Hawke stumbled back, her nose bloody. She brushed her hand across her face, laughing. Elissa regrouped with Dorian, Leliana and Lahara. Zevran, however, had disappeared. Elissa tensed.

_Where had he gone?_

“Maker, she’s insane,” Dorian mumbled. “Where did she come from? And she has a Shard, too!”

“The Champion of Kirkwall,” Leliana said, her face betraying no emotion. “Bearer of the last Shard of Andraste.”

“What’s happened to her?” Elissa asked. “And who is this ‘Etro’, anyway?”

“Pity the fallen goddess,” Hawke chittered, retreating to Alexius’s body. “Left all alone, guardian of souls, her murderer to atone…”

“Get her away from Alexius,” Dorian said, clenching his staff tighter. “If I can retrieve the amulet, I can figure out the counter-spell. Once I have it, use your Shards again and I will send us back.”

“Right,” Elissa said, grateful that all their hopes hadn’t vanished with the Antivan elf. She cursed herself. She should have known better than to trust him.

She braced her sword, her eyes fixed on Hawke. Lahara kept a defensive stance, her right hand clenched. Hawke faced them, drawing her second dagger. Her resolve broke first, and she ran at them. Elissa sprang forward, but at the last second Hawke jumped, sailing right over her. The rogue pounced on Lahara, slamming her into the floor. Lahara choked, the breath knocked from her lungs, then screamed, the Champion twisting her right arm behind her back.

“Lara!” Elissa was upon them in an instant. She kicked Hawke’s side, but the rogue didn’t release the Herald. Snarling, Elissa dropped her weapons and threw a punch. First a right, then a left, and then a savage uppercut to the jaw. It was enough to stun Hawke, and Lahara scrambled free. Yelling, Elissa hooked her arms under the Champion and threw her across the chamber.

Hawke groaned, smacking into a pillar. She collapsed onto her front, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Elissa growled, clenching her fists. Lahara crawled to the wall, clutching her bloodied right hand.

“Almost, almost…” Dorian continued to tinker with the pendant, his brow narrowed.

Hawke pulled herself to her feet, shaking dust from her hair. Howling, she bolted to Elissa. Before Elissa could react, something sharp and heavy cracked against her skull, and the world went spinning. Another blow followed, splitting open her lip, and a final one sent her reeling to the floor. The next thing she knew Hawke was straddling her, clawing at her shirt to expose her Shard.

“Have to…bring Etro back,” the Champion panted, blood trailing down her neck. “Save us…save…every…soul…”

“No!” Lahara staggered to Elissa, her right hand alight. She sank her nails into Hawke’s arm, when a fierce tremor shook the room. The distraction was just enough, and Elissa kicked out. She snatched Hawke’s pauldron, and with all her strength she flung the Champion off her chest. At the same moment, Lahara’s legs gave out, and she fell into Elissa. The Herald had lost too much blood. Elissa draped Lahara’s arm over her shoulder, forcing her upright.

“Stay with me, Lara,” she ordered.

Lahara grunted in answer, and another quake started. Pieces of the ceiling began to crumble, crashing into the floor tiles. Elissa dragged Lahara to the corner, shielding her from the debris. Leliana was now fighting Hawke, their blades screaming in a symphony of steel.

“ _Fasta vass_ , I can’t figure out the last part of the spell!” Dorian cried. “I need my magic!”

Lahara weakly raised her head. “Elissa…we…have to…”

A bellow tore through the chamber, and Elissa jerked her gaze to the entrance. The air shimmered, and then a dust monster appeared. Seconds later another followed, and another, and another. Then the hallway shuddered, and dark mist began to seep through the bricks. Elissa swore.

“Zevran, where the hell are you?!” she screamed.

Then Leliana shrieked, and Elissa turned back to her. She was on one knee, grasping her shoulder. Hawke roared, kicking her in the chest, and the bard groaned. She caught herself on her hands, shuddering and choking.

“Give me the Shards!” Hawke bellowed.

She charged, running at impossible speed. Elissa pushed Lahara behind her, yelping as the Champion’s knife ripped into her side. Adrenaline took over, and she caught Hawke’s wrist, forcing it backwards. Warmth trickled over her belly, but she ignored it. Her Shard erupted into brilliance, heat pulsing through her chest. Strength suddenly filled her, and she rammed her knee into Hawke’s stomach. Hawke wretched, and Elissa repeated the blow, tearing her daggers from her hands. She elbowed the Champion in the face, and a sickening crunch echoed. Hawke retreated, holding a hand to her broken jaw.

Dorian cried out, and Elissa was like lightning. She lunged for the dust monster about to overwhelm the Tevinter mage, driving her hand deep and destroying its core. It crumbled away, but there were more to replace it.

“Lift the Corruption, it’s our only chance!” Dorian pleaded.

“I can’t!” Elissa shot back; Lahara was still on the other side of the chamber, slumped against the wall. “Not without…”

“Watch out, behind you!”

Elissa spun around, only to find Hawke on top of her. She dived, skidding across the room, but the Champion was faster. She leapt after Elissa, shoving her into the wall and clamping her hands around Elissa’s throat. The icy stone dug into the wound at Elissa’s side, but she hadn’t the breath to cry out. Fingers tore her shirt, and nails scraped her skin, drawing blood over the rune.

“ _Elissa_!”

Leliana’s voice, no longer toneless and flat, but brimming with panic. Steps rushed, and Elissa was released. She fell to the ground, cracking her chin on the tiles. Pain sang through her back and arms, and every breath hurt. Her vision clouded, she tried to focus. Leliana swiped her knife at Hawke, a storm of fury in her grey-blue eyes.

“Leliana…” Elissa groaned, forcing herself to her feet. The bard had returned to her senses!

She had no time to think on it, though, as a dust monster bellowed. Its jaw flapped open, when it froze in mid-pounce. A crackle sounded, and it fell apart, revealing Lahara’s outstretched hand. The blinding light disappeared from her Shard, and she finally collapsed.

“Herald!” Dorian ran to her, when Hawke let out an inhuman screech.

Elissa turned, coming face to face with the rogue once more. She held Leliana’s stolen knife, and there was no escape. Elissa’s eyes snapped shut, awaiting the blow that would end it all.

Yet it never came. Instead a cry echoed, and a heavy weight fell into Elissa, almost crushing her against the floor. Something shivered in her arms, coughing and choking. Elissa’s eyes widened, as liquid warmth soaked through onto her stomach. But it wasn’t her own blood.

_No…Maker, no!_

Hawke struck again, trying to tear Leliana aside, but the bard held firm. The knife sank into her belly once more, but this time she didn’t cry out. Instead she snatched Hawke’s wrist, snapping it sideways, and managed a kick to the rogue’s chest. Hawke fell backwards, a bloodied mess on the floor. She didn’t get up again, but she was still breathing.

Leliana sagged in Elissa’s arms, her breaths shallow. Elissa rushed to press her hand against the bard’s wound, but she knew it was futile.

“I’m…sorry…” Leliana whispered. She raised a trembling hand, clasping it over Elissa’s. “I…” She tried to say more, but blood welled in her mouth, and she fell limp.

“ _NO, LELIANA_!”

For a single moment time seemed to stand still. Elissa couldn’t move, her tears frozen on her cheeks.

_She’s…she’s..._

Something snapped inside, and an ear-piercing shriek escaped Elissa’s lungs. White-hot rage ignited her Shard, and the rune exploded into an inferno, a core of brilliance that could not be contained. Fire poured through her, consuming her entire being, before spreading to every corner. It engulfed Hawke and Lahara, wrenching their Shards together, yet it wasn’t enough. Elissa reached further and further, stealing into the Corruption surrounding her, desperate to feed the undying hunger in her chest. The castle trembled in its foundations, the stone unable to bear the gathering energy.

Elissa howled again, seeking more, drawing deeper. More, more… _more!_ She’d destroy everything, tear the entire world asunder, bring the heavens themselves to…

Then it was as if a gate slammed down. A shower of ice descended, extinguishing the frenzied wildfire within, and her vision faded.

“I think that’s enough showing off for now,” an Antivan voice mused. “Time to return to the present, my dear.”

* * *

 

Elissa yelped, suddenly thrown to a carpeted floor. She landed on her knees, the rug rough beneath her hands, only for Lahara to bowl into her. They both smacked face-first into the ground, groaning. Elissa’s Shard pulsed, no longer a burning blaze, but a gentle warmth. It drained the remains of her anger, and she pushed herself to a sitting position, shivering.

_What was…Maker, I almost…_

That was when everything came rushing back. Elissa gasped, checking herself over. Her wounds had disappeared, but the deeper tears within remained. Lahara, however, still seemed worse for wear. Her gaze wasn’t quite there, stunned with shock. Elissa tucked her arm around the Herald, helping her to her feet.

“Elissa, Lara!” Bethany rushed to them, resting her hand on Elissa’s shoulder. Elissa’s heart swelled with relief, and she almost wanted to burst into tears.

_They’d made it back!_

A startled gasp caught her, and she looked up. Alexius was staring at them, his eyes wide.

“Well, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Dorian said, managing a smirk, although his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He stepped forward, snapping his fingers, and the amulet in Alexius’s hand broke. “You’ve been outmatched, Alexius. I would accept defeat if I were you.”

“Yes, Father,” Felix added. “This madness with the Venatori ends, now.”

The magister surveyed the room like a cornered vole, quivering all over. Finally, he met eyes with his son, and his shoulders sagged.

“Alright.” He bowed his head, and offered up his arms. “I surrender, Inquisition.”

His voice broke through Lahara’s daze, and she snapped her head up. Her mismatched eyes returned to focus, swiftly darkening.

“You.” Her lip curled, and she pulled away from Elissa. “You backstabbing, scheming, lowlife _bastard!_ ” The rune on her right hand began to glow. Bethany gasped.

“Lara, what are you…”

“You give me _one reason_!” Lahara shrieked. She thrust her right hand up, her Shard blazing, and an air bubble formed around Alexius’s mouth and nose. He gagged, falling to his knees and grabbing at his throat. White wisps seeped from his mouth, his face turning more and more purple. Lahara’s gaze was venemous, and she clenched her fingers tighter. “One reason I shouldn’t _rip every sodding breath out of you like the piece of filth you are!”_

“Lara, no!” Elissa grabbed the Herald’s arm, but Lahara shook her off.

“Herald, please!” Felix ran to his father’s side, as Alexius choked and wheezed. “You said you wouldn’t kill him!”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy!” Lahara’s voice was like ice. “ _Not after what he did_!”

“Lara, _stop it_!” Elissa tightened her grip around the Herald. Her own shirt was still damp with Leliana’s blood, but she refused to acknowledge it. “He’s surrendered already, there’s no need for this!” She squeezed Lahara’s arm, her own fingers quaking. “Whatever we experienced, it didn’t happen. It will _never_ happen!” She gritted her teeth. “Don’t let it control you!”

Lahara snarled. Alexius was rasping, his lips blue, barely clinging to consciousness. Felix’s eyes were pleading, begging.

“Herald,” he murmured, his voice cracking, “please, don’t do this!”

For a moment Lahara’s gaze faltered. Still she let the magister suffer as long as she dared, before she dropped her hand. The air bubble burst, and Alexius heaved, as if he’d been submerged underwater. He collapsed onto all fours, coughing and spluttering, his entire body convulsing. Felix knelt beside him, surveying him sadly.

“Take him into custody,” Cassandra ordered. The scouts came forward, giving the magister a moment to recover, before snapping chains around his wrists. Alexius didn’t resist. His eyes were filled with terror, and he didn’t dare look at Lahara again.

As he was led away, Lahara sank to her knees, trembling. Bethany crouched beside her, a healing spell at her fingertips, but Elissa shook her head. This was not something that could be healed with magic. Alistair too approached, his brows furrowed.

“Maker, you two look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he commented. “Are you alright?”

Elissa let out a breath. “I’ll…I’ll be fine, I think.”

“It didn’t happen,” Lahara whispered, holding her arms around herself. “It didn’t happen, it wasn’t _real_ …”

“What didn’t happen?” Bethany raised a brow. “Lara, you’re shaking so much.”

Lahara’s eyes glistened. Without warning she threw herself at the mage, clutching her as if she’d evaporate.

“I’m so sorry, Beth,” the Herald sobbed, burying her face in Bethany’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”

“Lara?” Bethany returned the embrace, more puzzled than anything else. “Elissa, what’s going on?”

Elissa swallowed, barely able to keep her own tremors at bay. Even though she knew it had all been a lie, the raw images wouldn’t leave her. Hawke tearing through Leliana, her scream as she’d collapsed into Elissa’s arms, being forced to watch the light disappear from her grey-blue eyes…

“A horrible, horrible future that will never come to pass,” Dorian supplied. He glanced to the broken amulet in his hand. “I will ensure this magic never sees the light of day again.”

“Thank you, Dorian,” Elissa said. “If not for you…”

“Then perhaps Alexius’s research would not have got this far,” Dorian sighed. “I am truly sorry you had to endure that. But you have certainly put a dent in this ‘Elder One’s’ plan, and you’ve got the mages in your debt, too. Not too bad, considering.”

“Speaking of which, what are we to do with the mages now?” Cassandra asked.

Slowly, Lahara withdrew from Bethany. She took a moment to gather herself, wiping her eyes, before rising to her feet. She took several deep breaths, but even then her tremors wouldn’t cease.

“Let’s…Let’s just take them back to Haven,” she said. “We’ll sort the rest from there.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a steamy scene at the end but nothing too explicit…and no, it’s not who you think it is, you’re still going to have to wait a little longer for that (I’m sorry, I’m sorry!), but we’re almost there. It will be worth it, I promise! :P
> 
> Thanks to all who’ve read this far and been so patient!

 

The sunset bathed Haven’s training grounds in a beautiful mix of green, gold and pink, and Lahara sighed. It struck the lake at just the right angle, making it shimmer, yet the peaceful scene did little to calm the Herald. She rested her chin on her hand, the chill breeze ruffling her hair. She’d hoped some fresh air would settle her, alas it seemed nothing would keep her thoughts occupied for long.

She drew her right hand close, the rune prickling in the cold. It had been aching a lot since her return—probably because she’d overused it. But although such pains were irksome, they were nothing compared to the memories that continued to haunt her. They had been back a few days now, yet Lahara still hadn’t been able to give a full report to her advisors. It didn’t help that Elissa refused to talk about it, either, but she couldn’t really blame the Warden. Elissa had almost lost complete control of her Shard, and Maker knew what would have happened had the counter-spell not activated.

That, along with _why_ Elissa had snapped in the first place…

A misted breath escaped the Herald, and she rubbed her eyes. She’d been going through this stupid spiral since leaving Redcliffe; she had to stop it. There was no sense acknowledging what had happened, especially since that nightmare had been erased altogether. Of course, that was easier said than done.

Yet if Lahara was completely honest, it was another fear that kept her ruminating. For while she’d realised her feelings for a certain mage ran deeper than she thought, she was far too terrified to say as much. Bethany treated her as a friend, for sure, but Lahara knew the mage would never see her as more than that.

_I wasn’t even enough to stop you chosing death…_

Soft steps crunched through the snow behind. Lahara didn’t turn around. She’d been out for hours; it was about time someone hunted her down.

“I will never tire of this view,” Leliana said, coming to sit beside the Herald. Lahara blinked. She hadn’t expected the spymaster to approach. “Even the Breach can’t tarnish the Maker’s creation.”

“Sure,” Lahara muttered distantly. She was still guilty at her outburst against Leliana in the dark future, even though the spymaster would never know of it.

“And yet such beauty can’t soothe your troubles, it seems,” Leliana went on. She clasped her hands in her lap, thoughtful. “Dorian spoke of what happened, and it sounds deeply disturbing. I cannot imagine what horrors you all had to face.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Lahara mumbled. “It’s…I don’t even know how things could become that awful.” She drew a knee to her chest. “Corruption consumed everything, everyone was dead, you were Tranquil, and I was utterly powerless.”

“I was made Tranquil?” Leliana caught her breath. “How is that even possible? I have no capacity as a mage.”

“Guess we can be thankful we never have to find out,” Lahara answered.

“Then that might explain a few things,” Leliana murmured, more to herself than the Herald. Lahara caught the hitch in her voice, and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Elissa still avoiding you like the Blight, huh?”

Leliana stiffened.

“You always have such a way with words, Herald,” she said. “But yes, she is.” She lowered her hood, letting the wind tease her red locks. “She was evasive at the best of times, even when we travelled together, but now…” She shook her head. “I feel as if I never truly knew her.”

“You’ve been apart for a long time,” Lahara said. “It’s only natural you’d both change.”

“Perhaps, but it is…harder to accept than I realised.” Leliana glanced to the horizon, her grey-blue eyes distant. “At times there is iron in her gaze, and I fear she wants nothing more to do with me. Yet then hesitation creeps back, and I catch her watching from afar.”

“And you haven’t found a way to corner her yet?” Lahara asked.

“Whenever I try, she turns mute, and inevitably my duties call me away. By the time I am free again, she has already found a new hideaway.” Leliana held her hand to her forehead. “I do not think I can take much more of it.”

Lahara sighed.

“Elissa’s…conflicted, for sure,” the Herald said, recalling her venture into the Black City. That brought up other thoughts, and she hesitated, reminded of their final moments in the dark future. “And she’ll have more on her mind, after what just happened.”

“Oh?” Leliana raised a brow.

Lahara swallowed.

“Look, I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” she began, “but just before we came back to the present, you…” She licked her lips. “You died to protect her.”

Leliana’s eyes widened. She fell silent for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, holding her hand against her chest.

“I would give my life for her in a heartbeat, always,” she said. “Just as you would for Bethany.”

That caught Lahara completely off guard, and her jaw dropped.

“I…what…how did…?!”

“I am no stranger to matters of the heart,” Leliana said, allowing herself a tiny smirk. “Everyone is still speaking of what you did to the magister in Redcliffe.” Her gaze turned grave again. “You only lose yourself to such anger for those you care deeply about. And you have been very fond of Bethany for a time now.”

Lahara’s cheeks blossomed red, and she cowered into her scarf. Her display with Alexius was still rippling through the Inquisition, and it had been hard to adjust to the new submissiveness in the scouts and soldiers. Even the mages bowed their heads whenever she walked past. Bethany, however, hadn’t shown much reaction other than her initial confusion, and that concerned Lahara. Come to think of it, they hadn’t crossed paths since their return, and the Herald was starting to wonder if it was on purpose.

“How observant of you, spymaster,” Lahara mumbled. “But don’t let me tread on your reputation for being feared.”

Her words were meant in jest, but they struck Leliana, and she bit back a wince.

“Even those who are feared are not free from their own doubts,” the spymaster said at last. “But the woman who walked into that wolves’ den at Redcliffe, who braved the depths of the Fade and entered the Black City itself, should not be so afraid of her own heart.”

Lahara rubbed the back of her neck.

“Heh, now who’s got a way with words,” she murmured. “Can’t we keep the advice strictly work-related, Leliana?”

Leliana gave Lahara a nudge.

“I am telling you this as your friend, and not your advisor,” Leliana replied. “Life is too short to harbour fears of what could be, Lara. Speak your true feelings when you can, and let the Maker do the rest.”

She stood and walked away before Lahara could respond. The Herald watched her retreat, noting she didn’t carry herself as confidently as usual.

“Sounds like you could take your own advice, Leliana,” Lahara mused. No wonder the spymaster had been so quick to change the subject.

The Herald shook her head. Elissa was cruel to keep stringing Leliana along, but Leliana was equally the fool for letting the Warden get away with it. Clearly they still felt strongly for one another, but hesitation and misgiving held them back, and neither had found the strength to overcome.

A wispy breath left Lahara’s lips. She tilted her head back, gazing at the star-lit sky.

She hoped she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

* * *

 

“There you are!”

Bethany’s voice broke the moment, and Elissa blinked. It was enough for Alistair to seize his advantage, and his shield smacked her chest-plate. Knocked back, Elissa fell to the ground, almost losing her grip on her blades. Before she could recover, Alistair tilted his sword down, inches from her exposed neck. He flashed a grin.

“Thanks for that, Bethany,” he chortled. Elissa rolled her eyes, as the Warden-Commander withdrew his blade and helped her to her feet. “I was getting tired of being beaten around.”

“The training grounds not good enough for you two?” Bethany asked, glancing around the isolated hillside. They were a couple of miles outside Haven, half-way up the steep path that led straight into the Frostbacks. And from the mage’s scowl, Elissa knew it had taken her a good while to find them.

“Well, you know how much Elissa loves crowds,” Alistair said.

“I just wanted to get away for a bit,” Elissa grumbled, dusting her shoulders. “Not my fault you followed and begged me for a sparring match.”

“Yes, because sitting around moping always achieves so much,” Alistair answered dryly. He wiped his grazed cheek, chuckling. “Maker, you pack quite a punch, you know. You’ve become a lot stronger.”

Elissa sighed, and not just for his comment. “Maybe.”

“It would’ve been nice if you told someone,” Bethany huffed, brushing back her windswept hair. “I’ve spent all day trying to find you.”

Elissa clenched her teeth. “If this is about Redcliffe again…”

“I’m not after _you_ , Elissa,” Bethany interrupted. “A letter from Nathaniel arrived a few hours ago, and Alistair needs to see it.”

“Nathaniel’s written back?” Alistair’s eyes widened. “I haven’t heard from him in a while. I hope it’s good news for a change.”

“I don’t know what he’s written, but Cullen has the letter,” Bethany said. “He’s waiting for you in the Chantry. At least, he was when I left him.”

“Right.” Alistair stood tall, slinging his shield on his back. “I’ll go catch up with the Commander and let you know of any updates.” He patted Elissa’s shoulder. “Don’t stay up here too long, okay? I don’t want to be called out to drag your freezing carcass back to the village.”

“I’m sure I can manage if it comes to that,” Bethany said, a playful glint in her eye.

Alistair smiled. “Then see you soon.”

With a clumsy salute, he strode off down the path. Elissa listened to his crackling steps, until they were drowned out by the wind. She sheathed her weapons, then retied her hair back, mindful of Bethany’s worried stare. Alistair had certaintly had the right idea—testing her sword strokes rather than her patience—but she knew it wouldn’t last. Now those discordant thoughts were returning, and she bit her lip.

“Quick to fall into old habits, aren’t you?” Bethany commented, making herself comfortable on a nearby boulder. “I thought you promised you wouldn’t do this anymore?”

Elissa glanced aside. A tingle ran through the rune on her chest, but she resisted the temptation to touch it yet again.

“There’s no point going over what I saw in that fake future,” she said quietly. “It didn’t even happen, anyway. The sooner I can forget about it, the better.”

“I’m not interested in what you saw,” Bethany countered. “And even if it wasn’t real, it’s still affecting you, and I’m not going to let you wallow this time.” She touched Elissa’s arm, and Elissa fought back a shiver. “Dorian told me what Amber…what she tried to do. And he also told me that Leliana took the blow that was meant for you.”

Elissa snapped her eyes shut, a flash of that moment striking her. How could she bring herself to think about _that_ again? When it would remind her that Leliana’s blood was firmly on her hands…

“You can’t keep tiptoeing around her, Elissa,” Bethany went on. “Keeping your distance hurts you as much as it does her, and it’s not fair on either of you.”

“Not fair?” Elissa’s fists clenched, a spark igniting. “Why are you on her side all of a sudden?”

“I’m not taking sides,” Bethany growled. “But you’re making yourself miserable for no reason! If you’d just talk things out with Leliana…”

Elissa’s brows narrowed.

“Oh, like she wanted to talk when she interrogated me?” she spat.

“You can’t still be holding that against her?” Bethany raked her hands through her hair. “She was the only one who managed to recognise you, despite that fugue spell, and look what she’s done to help you since!” She shook her head. “If it wasn’t for her, you’d have been stuck in the Black City forever, and you’d never have got your memories back.”

“That…That doesn’t make up for what she did!” Elissa snapped, although her voice faltered a little. “Have you forgotten? She hunted us, made our lives a living hell for all those years! She used _you_ as a hostage to get to me; she even tried to coerce Alistair against me!” Her eyes flared. “Never once did she try to establish the truth, and she almost killed me for it!”

“You’re making excuses, Elissa!” Bethany shot back. “Leliana’s done everything she could to bring you here; she willingly _gave up her life_ so you could escape that awful future!” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Elissa held her temples, wishing she could block her ears. _Of course it did_ ; it was the reason her heart was being pulled in all directions. It showed her the Leliana she used to know and love; the one who seemed to have disappeared since Elissa’s fall from Fort Drakon.

And therein lay the answer.

 _It’s my fault she’s become like this_ , Elissa thought, the bitter truth finally hitting her _. I wasn’t there when she needed me. I became another source for her pain…and so she gave up._

“I…I can’t just _forgive_ her,” Elissa murmured, holding a hand to her chest. “Not after what she’s let herself become.”

“Maker above, Elissa, will you stop spouting such nonsense!” Bethany huffed. “Did you honestly expect everything to remain the same after ten years? When Leliana’s been serving the Divine, when she thought you _dead_ …”

“She’s given up who she is!” Elissa retorted. “Every part of warmth and joy and compassion…” _All those things she returned to me when I almost walked the same path._ “…she’s thrown away.” She clasped her arms around herself. “Everything I begged her to always hold onto, to never lose…”

“She hasn’t lost anything!” Bethany protested. “I knew Leliana long before you did, and even I can see her old self is still there. She’s just grown more wary of showing it.” She swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Maker knows what she’s had to face, and yet she’s held onto her love for you all this time.” She paused. “And deep down, I know you feel the same.”

Elissa flinched, the mage’s words striking far closer than they should have.

“You’re so sure of that?” she muttered.

Bethany scowled.

“Elissa, when are you ever going to learn to stop _running_?” She grabbed Elissa’s arm. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

“I won’t _ever_ forgive her!” Elissa snapped, casting the mage’s hand aside. “Not…Not when…”

Angry tears prickled, and she stormed away.

_Not when I can’t forgive myself._

* * *

 

The moon was high, casting silver stripes across the floor of Lahara’s cabin. The Herald remained at her desk, mulling over a parchment, the hearth crackling in the background. She’d attempted to seek out Bethany earlier, but then Josephine had cornered her, politely reminding her of the duties Lahara had postponed since recruiting the mages. A dozen letters and several reports later, and the rest of the evening had been lost. Perhaps she would have better luck tomorrow.

Lahara rubbed her eyes, a long yawn escaping her. The last report was yet to be written, but it was the one she’d been putting off the most. So far, she’d penned a single word about the dark future, yet her thoughts remained preoccupied. Since she’d realised Bethany had been giving her a wide berth recently, newfound fears had taken hold, and it was all she could do to keep them at bay.

 _Of course she doesn’t want to be near me,_ Lahara thought, swallowing the pang in her chest. _I went too far with Alexius. She must think I’m some kind of monster._

A quiet knock came from the door. Lahara groaned, burying her head in her arms. It was far too late for Josephine to want the reports, surely. Still, she knew the ambassador loved burning the midnight oil, and she’d pay the price if she ignored her summons.

Yawning again, she stood from her bed and walked over. Her Shard suddenly sparked, making her legs wobble, and suddenly it was an effort to bear her own weight. Lahara scowled, leaning against a bookshelf and pressing her right hand against her side. Stupid thing, couldn’t it leave her alone for five minutes?

She wrangled her fingers, urging the pain to go away as she staggered to the door. She pushed it open, not bothering to hide her frustration.

“Come on Josephine, I did what I could, can’t this wait until…”

She stopped short, quickly realising her mistake. It was not the Antivan diplomat waiting out in the snow.

“Oh.” Bethany glanced away, her cheeks rosy. “You must be tired, Lara. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Lahara froze. Her heart began to flutter, a flash of the mage’s ravaged body crossing her vision. She rapidly blinked it away, shaking her head.

_It hadn’t been real._

“Ah, um, sorry Beth,” she said, finding her voice again. “I thought you were someone else.”

She let the mage inside, wishing her pulse would stop trying to race into the sunset. Leliana’s words echoed back to her, and she nervously brushed back her hair. Suddenly it was hard to think, and her earlier doubts wouldn’t fall silent.

_But she came to find me, so…_

Lahara closed the door, and they faced each other. An awkward silence descended, and Lahara wrung her hands. “So, um…what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Bethany said. “I would’ve come sooner, but I’ve been kept…busy.” She decided not to elaborate, instead meeting eyes with the Herald. “You were so upset in Redcliffe, and you haven’t really been yourself since. I wasn’t sure if you just needed a bit of space. But it’s been a few days now, and…” She sighed. “I know you’ll think I’m worrying too much, but you always look out for me, so I just want to know you’re alright?”

Lahara found herself smiling.

“I’m fine Beth, really,” she said, leaning against her desk. “So I lost my temper a little, happens to everyone at some point.”

“Not you,” Bethany answered. “I’ve never seen you so angry.” She stepped closer, brushing the Herald’s arm. Lahara’s heart did a backflip in her chest, but she fought it down. “Alexius only used that spell because I set him off. You didn’t have to take the hit for me.”

Lahara bit her lip. _I couldn’t do anything when it mattered._

“Of course I did,” she said, feigning cheerfulness. “It was my fault for being so casual about it. I should’ve realised Alexius had a trick card up his sleeve.”

“But if I hadn’t gone and provoked him…”

“…then you’d have been caught in that time rift instead,” Lahara finished for her. “Look, don’t worry about it. We all got back in one piece, and that’s the main thing.” She bit back a shudder, trying not to recall holding Bethany’s corpse. Even now she could smell the blood, the red lyrium burning her skin, and bile rose in her throat.

_I’m never, ever going to let that happen…_

“Is something wrong, Lara?” Bethany asked.

Lahara blinked, shaking the dark vision from her thoughts. _Stop thinking about it._

“Oh, it’s…it’s nothing.” She touched Bethany’s shoulder, warm and solid and real, and a pleasant tingle ran through her. This was what mattered; not that nightmare that needed to stop holding such power over her. “But really, don’t worry about me. I was just a bit shaken up.” She managed a weak chuckle. “You know me. I can bounce back from anything.”

“If you say so.” Bethany gave a smile, and rested her hand on Lahara’s. “But I’m here for you, okay? I don’t want you pulling an Elissa and bottling it all away.”

Warmth spread in Lahara’s chest, and her blush deepened. _Go on_ , the voice in her head cajoled. _Tell her, now._

Lahara took a breath, gathering her courage.

“Listen, Beth,” she began, “there’s something I…”

She was cut off as her right hand began to burn. The Herald grimaced, snatching her fingers away. Bethany gasped, watching the rune flash.

“It’s hurting you?” she asked.

“Maybe a little…agh!” Lahara bit back a cry as the rune surged, bringing tears to her eyes. “Maker, what’s…gotten into it…”

She clasped her wrist, and her fingers locked into spasm. This time she did cry out, her knees buckling, and Bethany had to catch her before she hit the floor. The mage’s scent caught Lahara, sweet and warm like honeysuckle on a summer’s day. Yet even that disappeared as nausea rose in the Herald’s throat.

“This…isn’t…fun anymore…” she croaked.

“You need to lie down.” Bethany wrapped her arm around Lahara, and helped her to stand. Lahara clutched the mage, unable to support herself. Gently, they walked over to the bed. Lahara slumped onto the mattress, and leant into Bethany’s embrace. The mage’s heartbeat pulsed against her cheek, strong and steady, and the rhythm soothed her. Still Lahara’s right hand prickled, and she clenched her teeth. That would teach her for overdoing it.

“Can I make it stop?” Bethany took Lahara’s hand between her own, running her thumbs along the rune. Lahara closed her eyes, focusing on her touch. It was tender, warm, and slowly, the ache in behind her palm began to lessen. Eventually the Herald opened her eyes again, and she found herself staring into Bethany’s beautiful caramel gaze. For a long moment they were lost in each other, unable to look away.

“Maker, you’re so beautiful,” Lahara whispered. Crimson rose on Bethany’s cheeks. Lahara’s eyes began to wander, tracing her jaw, her nose, and finally her dusky pink lips. Bethany’s breaths quickened. She clutched Lahara’s hand tighter.

“Lara,” Bethany breathed, “I…”

Unconsciously their faces drew closer, an unspoken desire awakened. A lock of the mage’s hair fell forward, brushing Lahara’s forehead, and she cupped Bethany’s cheek.

“I love you,” Lahara whispered.

Their brows touched. Bethany gasped, and then their lips met. A shiver ran through Lahara, and she pulled the mage into her arms, her pain forgotten. She should have done this long ago. Bethany’s scent was intoxicating, and she forced the mage to part her lips.

Bethany tensed, and at once Lahara broke away. Her chest caved in on itself. She’d gone too far.

“You don’t…I’m so sorry…” The Herald made to withdraw, but Bethany held them together.

“N-No,” the mage stammered. “I…I do…it’s just, I’ve never…” She let out a quivering sigh, and that was when Lahara finally caught on.

“You’ve never been kissed by a woman before?”

Bethany glanced away, suddenly shy. “Not…Not like that, no.” She swallowed, running her thumb over Lahara’s jaw. “But I…it was…I mean…oh, Andraste, rot this!”

She took Lahara’s face in her both her hands and reunited their lips. Lahara almost forgot to breathe, completely lost in the mage’s teasing caresses. She felt as if she was walking on clouds. Her hand trailed up Bethany’s shirt, her fingertips tracing bare skin, and Bethany pushed herself against the Herald. She broke contact for a moment, her fingers tangled in Lahara’s hair.

“Lara.” The Herald’s name was barely a breath on her lips. “I…I want…I’ve wanted…but I never…I wasn’t sure you’d…”

Lahara hushed her, brushing her thumb over Bethany’s lower lip.

“Well, you’re in luck,” the Herald murmured. “I’m yours.”

“Oh Lara…” The mage closed her eyes, renewing their kiss. Her touches were soft, but fiery, and Lahara could think of nothing else. Bethany pressed her hands against Lahara’s chest, pushing her onto the bed. Her fingers skimmed Lahara’s shirt, slipping the buttons free, but then she abruptly snatched her hand away.

Lahara pulled back slightly, her brow raised. Bethany’s face remained flushed, and she looked away.

“I…sorry…I didn’t…am I…”

Lahara reached for her hand, locking their fingers together. “You’re fine, Beth. But if you want to stop…”

Bethany’s answer was to unite their lips again, and the rush made Lahara’s head swim. The Herald could barely focus, consumed with the mage’s taste, wanting to explore every inch of her. It wasn’t long before her shirt fell away, and she tossed it onto the floor. Bethany tugged at her own, tearing it over her head. She leant against Lahara, their skin sharing warmth, trembling slightly.

“Touch me,” she whispered, her breath hot against the Herald’s lips. Lahara obliged, running her fingertips across Bethany’s collarbone. She then followed the same path with her mouth, tracing gentle kisses across her skin, and Bethany arched her neck back. The mage’s hands roamed, wanting and eager, and heat pulsed through Lahara. Maker, how much she’d wanted this…wanted _her._

Bethany writhed under the Herald’s touch, her desire at breaking point. Lahara wandered lower and lower, her tongue tracing a trail down the mage’s belly, Bethany’s muscles rippling in response. When she came to Bethany’s hips, she paused, rolling on top and pinning her against the bed. She started to unfasten the mage’s belt. Bethany moaned, making to pull the leather free herself, but Lahara kept her in place.

“Maker, _please_ ,” Bethany begged. “I can’t…”

“Patience,” Lahara murmured, deliberately fumbling with the buckle. Bethany groaned, while the Herald playfully kissed her nose. “No rush, hmm?”


	28. Chapter 28

_It is quiet tonight in Denerim. The rain patters softly, like a soothing lullaby, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside. I have lain awake for hours, sleep but a distant dream. My mind rages, bitter at my failure against Howe, and it constantly reminds me of that horrible night in Highever. The visions still sting, even now, although they do not choke with despair as they once did._

_Alas, while I can better shield myself to that pain, I am helpless against another ache within. Set off by that Orlesian witch’s dying words, meant to wound the bard she once claimed to love, and yet their edge is more cutting to_ me _. They tore open feelings I never realised; feelings that have grown deep within for so long, and now leave me adrift._

_My fingers brush my lips, reminiscing Leliana’s warmth. The memory of her kiss still brings heat to my cheeks, but the embers quickly die, my doubts resurging. She has been everything to me; a guiding light, a pillar of strength. A beloved friend closer than any I have ever known, perhaps even more than that. Yet if I pursue such a course, I am so afraid of wounding her, losing her. To bear such pain again would destroy me._

_And yet I had no qualms leaving her with the most hurtful pain of all. She openly bared her true feelings, and like a fool I stared back, neither turning her aside nor leaping into her embrace. This will not be the first time, either._

_Why is it so hard to trust my own heart?_

* * *

Birdsong broke Elissa’s dreaming, and she jerked awake. Her breath misted, and she blinked, the cold suddenly hitting her. Her left cheek was frozen, and she winced, pulling herself away from the frosted Chantry spire. Now she remembered; she had come to the rooftop to watch the stars, unable to sleep. It seemed however that fatigue had eventually caught up. Thankfully the sun had barely risen, so she couldn’t have drifted off for long. Still, it was fortunate she had wrapped up warm.

Pressing her scarf to her numb face, Elissa leant back against the spire. The twittering continued, and she glanced to the edge of the roof. A tiny nightingale perched on the tiles, preening itself. Elissa raised a brow. It was very rare to see one in such an icy climate.

The nightingale cheeped, its beady eyes watchful, before it flew off towards the lake. Elissa watched it disappear, a yawn escaping her. The sun began to crest the eastern peaks, and she rubbed her eyes. Of course she’d be visited by _that_ bird; just as it was _that_ memory that taunted her dreams. When she had faced similar indecision, and almost paid the price for such hesitation.

Yet now she wondered if following her heart had been the right choice, after all. It had only given Leliana false hope; a glimmer of a future that was never to be. Instead of granting her happiness, it had pushed the bard into acrid grief, and made her steep herself in the very shadows she had once so hated.

 _I failed you in every way possible, Leliana,_ Elissa thought bitterly, closing her eyes _. I snuffed out your brightness, the one that saved me when I thought all was lost, and left you to tread a path you wanted to forget._

_How can you still want me, after what I’ve done to you?_

Abruptly the spire door creaked. Excited cawing caught Elissa’s ear, and she snapped her head up. A flash of black and lilac emerged, and her eyes widened. She scrambled to her feet, trying to duck behind the spire, but Leliana’s gaze locked with hers. The world hung in stillness, and Elissa’s pulse rumbled, the cold raw against her throat.

Maker, not now…

Finally Leliana broke the moment. She flung out her arm, the crow soaring into the sky, before she slammed the spire door shut. Then she jammed her knife into the latch, so it could not be opened. She faced Elissa again, her eyes narrowed.

“I won’t let you run this time,” Leliana stated. “Not anymore.”

She strode forward. Elissa involuntarily took a step back, her heel skirting over the guttering. There would be no escape. She clamped her fingers around her Warden pendant, her palms sweaty.

“Is silence all you can muster towards me, now?” Leliana asked, continuing to approach. Elissa bowed her head, focusing on Leliana’s feet. She could barely even look at the bard.

_Why am I so weak?_

At last Leliana halted, less than an arm’s length away. An uneasy quiet followed, but it was swiftly broken. Leliana took a final step, grasping Elissa’s shoulders, and their stares met once more.

“I’m tired of this dance, Elissa, and I will have no more of it!” The bard’s grey-blue eyes were admonishing, but also glimmered with pain. “Haven’t you let this hurt enough?”

Elissa winced.

“You cannot honestly tell me you want to go on like this,” Leliana went on. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes. Please, I can’t bear this any longer, and I know you can’t, either!”

She shifted her grip, taking Elissa’s hands into her own. A shiver ran down Elissa’s neck, and she bit her lip.

“I…I don’t know what you want me to say,” Elissa said, managing to find her voice. “Words won’t…they can’t help.”

“How can _anything_ help when you won’t tell me what you’re feeling?” Leliana shook her head. “I thought perhaps some time would heal you, but you still haven’t changed after all these years.” She brought Elissa’s hands to her chest. “I know things can’t be what they were, but I want to rekindle what we had, however long it may take.” She took a shaking breath. “I…I still love you, Elissa. I’d give anything for you. So why do you keep running from me?”

Her eyes were pleading; an expression that suddenly made Elissa’s lip curl. The bard wanted to play innocent in all this, as if none of her actions had had consequence?

_I might have set her on this path…but she was still the one who followed it._

A brusque coldness took over, and Elissa shook off Leliana’s hold.

“Why wouldn’t I stay away,” she said, “after what you did to me?”

Leliana’s face flushed. She glanced aside.

“It was never meant to go that far,” she said, her voice less assured. “I…I just wanted answers.”

“That was no excuse to _torture_ me!” Elissa barked. She squared her shoulders, and it was Leliana’s turn to step back. The dam had finally broken, and the onslaught could not be stopped. “Do you have any idea what I had to go through because of you? What Bethany had to give up, what Alistair thought he lost? Living like a hunted animal, losing everything I worked so hard to rebuild when I had absolutely _nothing!_ ”

Leliana’s eyes flared.

“You think you were the only one who had to make sacrifices?” she retorted, her own voice rising. “At least you had the fortune of forgetting, while I’ve lived all these years with your death haunting me!” Her hands shook. “Do you know how long it took to stop that horrible moment playing over and over, to stop cursing myself that _I_ was the one who let you die…”

Something tugged in Elissa’s chest, but she brushed it aside.

“And then to hear rumour you had survived,” Leliana went on, “only to be murdered in cold blood…” She clenched her fist. “I could not let such an insult go unavenged!”

“You put more faith in a _rumour_ than the truth!” Elissa howled. “I answered every one of your charges, and none of it was enough! You put words in my mouth because I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, and you tried to take my blood for it!” Her eyes burned. “Avenging my death was more important to you than my _life,_ and you expect me to brush that aside like it never happened?!”

“What more can I do to make up for that?!” Leliana growled. “Once I realised who you were, I tried everything to help you remember! When you were trapped in the Black City, I researched all avenues to try and free you. And when we finally figured out how to rescue you, I didn’t hesitate to enter the Fade!” Her jaw tensed. “If not for me, you would still be trapped there, your memories forever lost!”

The words were on Elissa’s lips before she could think.

“Maybe you should have left it that way,” she hissed. “I was better off forgetting!”

Her words echoed, and Leliana flinched, as if she’d been bitten. The ache between Elissa’s ribs redoubled, and she almost couldn’t breathe.

But she’d made her choice.

“Is…Is that how you really feel?” Leliana’s voice was hardly a whisper. Still it cut deeper than any blade, and Elissa grimaced. A voice inside was screaming, but it was drowned out, lost in the torrent of rage and anguish. Everything hurt too much; she couldn’t bear it.

_I won’t risk you losing any more of yourself for my sake._

“I…I didn’t want it to be like this.” Elissa turned away, her eyes prickling. The breeze picked up, the chill scathing against her face. “I’m sorry.”

Leliana said nothing. She could only stare at the roof tiles, holding her hand to her chest. The silence stretched on, unbreakable, unbearable, until a soft chirp broke through. Elissa turned, catching sight of the nightingale again.

It landed between them, giving a little shiver, then began singing. Leliana watched it as well, and that was when Elissa saw her eyes were glistening.

Eventually the nightingale quieted, and Elissa couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward, and the bird flew away. Leliana shivered, the spell broken, and clasped her arms around herself.

“I…I thought I knew what loss meant,” she choked. “When Marjolaine cast aside all that I had been to her; when you fell from Fort Drakon; when Jusitinia perished in the explosion…” She couldn’t finish, and had to take a sharp breath. “But when the Maker grants me the miracle I always prayed for, even that slips from my grasp.”

She drew closer, her tears falling freely, and unclasped the chain around her neck. Elissa’s eyes widened.

“Leliana…”

“Just say it,” Leliana murmured, pressing the ring necklace into Elissa’s hand. “Look me in the eye and say there’s nothing left between us, that it’s over, and I will never trouble you again.”

Elissa couldn’t move, lost in her grey-blue gaze. There was no anger anymore, or even coldness; only a heart-wrenching sadness she had never wanted to see again. The bard had played her final card, and it tore through every anguished voice in Elissa’s mind. All the suffocating guilt and pain were burned away, and only a final, single feeling remained. One that had always burned bright beneath the surface, and now refuted the words she’d so desperately believed needed to be said.

“I…” She could barely get her lips to move.

_No, I can’t…_

_I can’t say it…_

_I won’t say it!_

_Because I still…_

She gripped Leliana’s hand, pushing the ring back into her palm. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be freed, and she took a breath.

“Leliana, I…agh!”

The bard’s name was all Elissa could manage, as blind-siding pain suddenly slammed into her chest. She cried out, grasping at her Shard. It was like a knife had plunged into it, tearing through into her back. The rune flared, setting her skin on fire. Her scream died in her throat, and her legs gave way.

“Elissa!” Leliana caught her, and they both cracked their knees on the slate. Elissa was shaking, her forehead clammy. Her vision blurred, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The bard touched her cheek. “Maker, what’s wrong? How can…”

A defeaning roar blotted out the rest of her words, and a savage tremor tore through Haven. The Chantry spire groaned, loosened from its foundation, and Leliana pulled Elissa against her. Elissa snapped her eyes closed, the bard’s scent lending some comfort. Scree from the mountains began to tumble, accompanied by the shriek of collapsing stone, and screams echoed from the paths below.

“Maker above, the Breach!”

Weakly Elissa raised her head, following Leliana’s gaze. Her mouth went dry, and the storm inside fell silent. The pillar of jade that had become so familiar was writhing like a wounded snake, twisting and shooting bolts of emerald lightning in all directions. The tear itself was also restless, rippling and shifting with such force that pieces of the surrounding mountains were ripped clean off.

_What in the Maker’s name…_

“Leliana, Leliana!”

Cassandra’s voice thundered from the spire door, along with loud hammering. It was enough to jar the knife, and finally the door splintered apart. The Seeker burst through the wreckage, her eyes wide.

“Thank the Maker, you’re both here!” she said, relieved. “The Breach has gone out of control!”

“But how?” Leliana’s mask had returned, the need for action keeping her feelings at bay. “My scouts never reported anything was amiss!”

“Neither did Cullen’s troops,” Cassandra said, “but we cannot deny what is happening before us. Come, we must act quickly!”

Nodding, Leliana helped Elissa to her feet. Elissa coughed, pressing her hand against the rune. At least the pain had become somewhat bearable, now. Reluctantly Leliana released her, the ring necklace still in the bard’s grasp. Elissa gently brushed her hand against Leliana’s, before following Cassandra to the broken door. There would be time enough to finish this later; she would make sure of it.

It wasn’t long before they were back in the main hall. Already it was filling with terrified villagers, seeking shelter from the chaos outside. Josephine and the Chantry sisters were trying to organize the throngs, before it would turn into a panicked frenzy.

“Where is the Herald?” Cassandra boomed. “We need her right now!”

“Still outside, with Solas, Dorian and Bethany,” Josephine reported. “Her mark has gone crazy, and she’s…” The ambassador hesitated.

“She’s what?” Elissa asked.

“She…says she can _hear_ the Breach,” Josephine answered, her brow creased. “I don’t know if her Shard of Andraste has anything to do with it.”

“We’ll find out.” Elissa pushed her way through the crowd, Leliana and Cassandra following in her wake. Her Shard still pulsed, like a heartbeat threatening to smother her own, and she gritted her teeth. If hers had reacted so badly, Maker knew what Lahara was suffering when she had two marks to deal with.

At last they returned to the open air; into madness. Most of the tents had collapsed, and a few of the cabins had caught alight. A small landslide had also damaged several trebuchets. Soldiers were carrying wounded towards the Chantry, while others were trying to tackle the blazes. The air stank of smoke and embers, and all the while the Breach continued to rumble, as if the heavens would rupture at any moment.

“There!” Cassandra broke into a run, towards the small gathering ahead. Solas, Bethany, Dorian and Varric were crouched around Lahara. The Herald was on her knees, her hands clamped firmly over her ears. Both of her marks were flickering, reacting to the whirlwind of energy. Bethany had her arm around Lahara, her face tight with concern.

“Solas, make it shut up!” Lahara cried, her eyes screwed shut. “That sound, that _awful awful sound!”_

“What in the Maker’s name are you hearing?” Dorian asked. “I can certainly feel the Fade forces, but not much else.”

“I take it spirits aren’t known for their singing prowess, eh Chuckles?” Varric commented.

“It has nothing to do with the spirits,” Solas said, his eyes narrowing. “You are hearing the resonances of the Fade, Lahara. It is something all mages sense at some level, but your Shard makes you much more sensitive to it.”

“I don’t care why I’m hearing it, just make it _stop_!” Lahara bawled, shaking her head. “Isn’t there a mute spell you can cast or something?!”

“Only one thing will make the noise cease,” Solas said. “We have to seal the Breach for good.”

“Is that safe to do right now?” Dorian asked. “The amount of Fade magic flying around has already made the area very unstable. Pour any more into it…”

“We have no choice,” Solas replied. “This is far worse than when the Breach was first created. If we do not stop this immediately, the uncontrolled Fade forces will tear Thedas asunder!”

“Not to mention the Herald’s eardrums,” Varric said.

Lahara grimaced. “Then we do what Solas says.”

Biting her lip, she forced herself to stand. Bethany’s hold didn’t leave her.

“Are you sure you can do this?” the mage asked. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s just a stupid noise,” Lahara said, her jaw clenched. “An ungodly cacophony of screeching razor blades in my head, but I’ll have to put up with it.” Her mismatched eyes fell to Elissa. “You feel it too, don’t you Elissa?”

Elissa nodded, still clutching the rune at her chest. “Not as badly as you, I fear.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one,” Lahara muttered. Wincing, she slowly removed her palms from her ears. “Well, sitting here complaining won’t get us far. The sooner I can close that giant hole, the better.”

“You won’t have to deal with it alone, Lara,” Bethany said.

“Sunshine’s right, you’ll need all of us to pull this off,” Varric added.

“Agreed,” Dorian said. “We are at your command, Herald.”

Sighing, Lahara stood tall.

“Alright then. Cassandra, find Fiona and gather the mages,” she ordered. “Get them ready to move out as quickly as you can.” The Seeker nodded, setting off towards the training grounds. “Varric, tell Cullen to gather a force to march on the Temple of Sacred Ashes ruins. And Leliana, get your scouts to take the people to safety, and let Josephine know that she’s in charge until we return.”

The Herald clenched her left fist, the mark blazing bright green. “We’re going to finish this once and for all!”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Raven Sinead for adding a bit of flair to the song lyrics (you’ll see soon enough).

Emerald lightning thrashed through the clouds, and Elissa flinched, the shock sending ripples through her Shard. Every pulse of the Breach rumbled through her chest, and she clamped her hand over the rune, bile souring her throat. The mountains groaned, their torn peaks swirling overhead, and she shivered, reminded too closely of the dark future. They had to put an end to this, quickly.

Then she could finally end the storm in her own heart, too.

Engrossed in her thoughts, Elissa didn’t notice the sudden ice patch in the path. Her foot skidded, and she yelped. Bethany’s hand shot out, grabbing her before she would slide head-first into the rocks.

“Careful,” the mage chided.

“Sorry,” Elissa said, regaining her balance. Her Shard continued to burn, and she grimaced, the nausea back in full force. The back of her neck turned clammy, and she held her hand to her forehead. Maker, why did she feel so ill?

“Is your Shard still hurting?” Leliana slowed her pace to walk alongside them, her brow arched.

“I…feel really sick,” Elissa mumbled, wishing the nasty taste in her mouth would disappear. For once, she couldn’t blame it on her feelings.

“Your Shard must be absorbing the Fade energies, as well,” Solas said, raising a hand to his chin. “It is intriguing how the effect manifests differently for you than Lahara.”

“I’d take a hangover from hell over this mad jangle in my head,” Lahara muttered; she’d taken to covering her ears again, though it was clearly not doing much. “Anyway, any idea what’s made the Breach so upset all of a sudden?”

“This was no act of chance,” Solas stated, his eyes narrowed. “Something—or someone—has deliberately undone the stabilising measures.”

“And they managed it without one of these?” Lahara asked, tilting her eyes towards her left hand. The rift mark was flickering, glowing brighter the closer they approached the Breach.

“It would seem so,” Solas answered.

“Then whatever set it off must have used a great deal of power,” Dorian added, chewing his lip. “Perhaps your Shards of Andraste had something to do with it?”

“Our Shards were triggered _after_ the Breach went out of control,” Elissa pointed out, irritation overcoming her churning stomach. “And they’re still being affected by it, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Hey, Sparkler’s not trying to point fingers, Grim,” Varric said. “But it’s kinda bad if whatever we’re facing can give the Breach a nervous breakdown like this.”

“I agree,” Bethany said. “We need to hurry, before it gets any worse.”

Elissa nodded, forcing herself to walk faster. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the temple ruins emerged from the rocks. Not a trace of the ornate architecture remained, and red lyrium had sprouted everywhere, smothering the rubble like crimson fungus. Elissa let out a breath, absently clenching the fingers of her left hand. How ironic she would return to this place, feeling as unwell as the last time…

“You can barely recognise it now, Elissa.” Leliana’s jaw tensed. “The explosion took far more than it should have.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’ve been to the Temple of Sacred Ashes before,” Bethany piped up.

Elissa nodded.

_And if not for Leliana, I would never have survived to see it again…_

“Stay clear of the red lyrium,” Varric warned, clutching Bianca tighter. He shook his head. “How the hell has it spread so much?”

“Want to bet it’s related to the Breach losing it?” Lahara said. Her brow twitched, and she groaned, clamping her ears tighter. “Maker above, _I can’t_ _stand this!”_

She dug her fingers into her temples, hard enough to leave marks. Bethany’s gaze softened, and she grasped the Herald’s shoulder. Lahara sighed, pulling a hand free and pressing it over the mage’s. Elissa didn’t miss the tender gaze they shared, and had to look away, her own feelings stirred. If Leliana noticed anything, she didn’t show it.

They hurried past the fractured pillars, entering a ridge surrounding the remains of the Conclave. A crumbling stone railing also circled the ruin; about the only thing that had survived the original blast. Cullen and Alistair were waiting on the narrow platform, staring at the enormous rift above. Sparks of green periodically erupted from it, enough to send the ground trembling.

Saliva pooled in Elissa’s mouth, and she gagged, the concentrated magic flooding her Shard. She staggered against the railing, when a comforting hand rested on her back. Leliana was at her side, supporting her. The bard didn’t say anything, but her grey-blues eyes revealed enough.

“Cavalry’s here,” Lahara announced.

Cullen and Alistair turned around, and their faces filled with relief.

“Thank the Maker you made it so swiftly.” Cullen’s expression was grave. “It’s worse than we feared. The rift has become completely unstable, and it’s almost impossible to get near.”

“We also don’t know why it’s become like this,” Alistair added, crossing his arms. “There was nothing here but a school of demons when we arrived. Whoever messed around covered their tracks well.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Bethany murmured.

“Where’s Cassandra, and the rest of the mages?” Cullen asked.

“Right behind us,” Dorian supplied. “They should be here soon.”

“But if we cannot approach the rift, Lahara will not be able to seal it,” Solas remarked.

“Worry not,” Cullen answered. “I did say ‘almost’.” He stepped to the edge of the overhang, gesturing to a dais a few metres below. “We’ve secured a good vantage point. It should be close enough for you, Herald, to do what you need, and it is easily defendable.”

“Nice one,” Lahara said, although her face twisted, still irked by the rabble in her ears. “Should be done in no-time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Varric asked. “Our lovely Herald wiggles her fingers and we see what happens?”

“There will be more to it than that,” Solas said. “The mages must channel their magic into Lahara’s mark directly.” His eyes fell to the Herald’s right hand. “And you will have to be careful your Shard doesn’t drain the mana before you can use it.”

“And here I thought we’d be back in Haven in time for tea,” Dorian grumbled.

“This is going to attract a lot of attention from the other side, too,” Solas went on. “The rest of you must keep the demons distracted, lest they interrupt.”

“Ah, our favourite pastime.” Alistair nudged Elissa’s shoulder. “I suppose it was either that or darkspawn, and we’re a bit out of practice with the latter.”

“Will you be alright to fight, Elissa?” Leliana asked. “Your sickness…”

“I’ll be fine,” Elissa said, wiping her mouth. “I’ve coped with worse.”

“But…”

“Herald, we’re here!”

Cassandra’s shout cut the bard off, and the group spun around. The Seeker and Fiona emerged from the ruins, leading the remaining mages. Connor was amongst them, and he gave Elissa a firm nod. The Grand Enchanter’s gaze lingered on Alistair for a moment, before she bowed.

“We are ready,” she declared.

“Then I will take you and the Herald to the vantage point,” Cullen said. “Mages, fall in!”

“Right.” Lahara made herself lower her hands from her ears. “Looks like this is it, everyone. Wish us luck.”

“We’re counting on you, Herald,” Varric said.

“Yes, we must leave everything in your hands now,” Cassandra added.

“But we’ve got your back,” Alistair encouraged.

“May the Maker protect you,” Leliana said.

“You can do this, Lara,” Elissa said. “Take care.”

“Same to you all,” Lahara answered, managing a smile. “Watch yourselves out there. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

She strode to Cullen’s side, the mages filing in behind her. Dorian and Solas also bowed, joining the lines. Bethany sighed. She turned to Elissa, giving her arm a squeeze.

“Look after yourself, sis,” the mage said.

“I will,” Elissa answered. “Be careful.”

“Don’t push yourself, okay?” Bethany warned. “You’re not at your best, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Can’t afford to,” Elissa murmured, her eyes drifting towards Leliana. Bethany caught the stolen glance, and managed a smirk.

“No, you can’t. And I’m glad.” She playfully flicked Elissa’s chest-plate, then hurried after the mages.

“We’ll need to support the ground force,” Alistair said, drawing his sword. “Follow me, and stay away from the base of the rift.”

He walked along the descending path, Cassandra and Varric in tow. As Elissa made after them, Leliana grabbed her wrist.

“I’ll be watching over you,” the bard promised.

Elissa clasped her hand. “I know. Stay safe.”

She wanted to say more, when the rift shuddered, bursting with energy again. Elissa stumbled, breaking contact. She grabbed the railing, wretching, but nothing came out. Groaning, she righted herself, making for the jagged path before Leliana could stop her. She would have to fight through it.

Eventually she caught up to Alistair. He flashed a concerned look, but Elissa shrugged it off. They took position, facing the rift. Inquisition soldiers were stationed around the dais, intent on the crystals that kept forming and reforming. Archers were also scattered along the ridge, and Elissa caught a lilac hood amongst them.

Lahara and the mages appeared, gathering on the dais at the edge of the ridge. The Herald stood in the centre, Bethany and Dorian beside her. They clasped her shoulders, and four other mages clasped theirs in turn, forming a fan-like formation, until they were all united.

“Don’t get too close,” Alistair ordered, raising his shield. “The rift could easily tear you apart, never mind the demons.”

“Right.” Elissa drew her blades, her brows narrowed. Cassandra took up her weapons, and Varric primed his crossbow.

It was time.

Lahara’s eyes narrowed, and she raised her hand towards the crystals. Her left palm burst into life, and she hissed, her arm shaking as mana began to feed her mark. The crystals slowed their endless morphing, and the air rippled. The rift spluttered like a dying firework, and a shower of sparks struck the ground. The ruins shook, and some of the mages stumbled, but they held firm, keeping the chain unbroken.

It did not last, however. A surge of light escaped the rift, and Lahara lost her hold. Her mark dimmed, and the crystals shattered, only to be replaced by larger, more deformed ones. High above the Breach swelled, widening slightly. Lahara groaned, snatching her hand to her chest, and that was when a shriek erupted.

“Here they come!” Alistair cried, bolts of green light slamming into the floor. Moments later a Rage demon materialized, followed by a plethora of others. Screaming, they charged, making straight for the dais.

Snarling, Elissa sprinted, her body acting of its own accord. Her sword sliced the first demon, tearing its throat, and her dagger cracked its skull open. It crumpled at her feet, but she was already onto the second. It soon met the fate of its brother, and she fell into a rhythm, cutting through flame and flesh as if she were tending a harvest. Her Shard pulsed, renewing the sickness with every blow, but she forced it aside, urging herself to move faster.

“Hey, leave some for us, Grim!” Varric teased, shooting a Despair demon.

“Draw them away from the mages!” Cassandra barked.

“Lahara, try again!” Solas’s voice echoed, distorted by the Fade energies.

Teeth gritted, Lahara forced her left hand up once more, her face screwed in determination. The mana poured into her, and Elissa caught the whisper of her thoughts.

**_Can’t…too much…noise…all over the place…can’t…focus…Maker, why…won’t…it…shut..up?!_ **

The rift started to tremble, growing brighter and brighter. The rune on Elissa’s chest lit up, and the horrible taste came back. Her stomach muscles clenched involuntarily, and she spat out dark bile. Her throat burning, a Despair demon suddenly appeared, cackling. It lunged, and Elissa yelped, its ice spell scraping her shoulder.

Seconds later an arrow zoomed past, smacking into the demon’s chest. Two others followed, their tips set aflame, and the creature howled, burnt to ashes. Elissa recognised the fletching, and she glanced to the ridge, offering a silent thanks to Leliana.

“Agh!” Lahara cried out, falling to her knees. “I can’t…this isn’t working!”

“Don’t give up!” Bethany hooked her arm under the Herald’s shoulder, helping her to stand again.

“What appears to be the problem?” Dorian asked. “It looked like you almost had it!”

“If you’d all…just…stop shouting…” Lahara let out a growl, shaking her head. Her thoughts spilled, and Elissa bit her lip.

**_Impossible…too many voices…fighting…jostling…so much…discord…_ **

**_Wait…_ **

**_Maybe…_ **

Something clicked, and Lahara’s eyes widened. She pulled away from Bethany, squaring her jaw. Then she stepped to the edge of the dais, extending her hands toward the rift. Bethany and Dorian renewed their hold on her, and the mages braced, ready for the next attempt.

Before the mana would flood back into her, Lahara closed her eyes. Her right hand glowed faintly, and then she began to sing.

“ _Rain melts from stars on high,_  
Falling down from blackened skies;  
A thund'ring rage against the light,  
Erasing pain and breaking lies,  
Truth calls to you, now face the choice,  
To mute your lips, or raise your voice?”

Her voice was unfaltering, hauntingly beautiful, and even the demons hesitated. Elissa took her chance, striking down another Despair demon, before regrouping with Cassandra and Alistair. They stared at the Herald, puzzled.

“That is the Chant of Harmony,” the Seeker said.

“I thought I recognised it,” Alistair said. “It was one of the first hymns I learned in my Templar training.”

“Bit of an odd time to show some devotion to the Maker, isn’t it?” Varric asked.

“Wait, look!”

Elissa turned to the mages again, and the change was immediately apparent. Now they all held themselves completely still, fixating on nothing but Lahara’s voice. Her mark glowed, more brightly than ever before, and the rift crystals began to shuffle and twitch. It was enough to provoke a burst of lightning, and fresh howls rang through the ruins.

“She’s giving the mages something to focus on,” Elissa realised. “Come on, don’t let the demons break their concentration!”

She charged with Alistair into the next wave of monsters. All the while Lahara’s singing echoed, and she was soon joined by mages and soldiers alike. It fuelled Elissa’s slashes, and she tore through demon after demon, nausea a distant memory.

“Maker, now you’re just showing off!” Alistair said, ramming a Rage demon into a fallen pillar. “I thought you said you were feeling sick?”

Elissa didn’t answer, plunging her dagger into a Despair demon’s chest. She threw it against the ground, and her sword took care of the rest. The creature had barely vanished when another took its place, and Elissa hit out again. So long as she kept fighting, she didn’t have time to think about anything else.

Abruptly the rift groaned, shedding another load of crystals. They cracked against the stone, exploding into fragments. Elissa’s Shard burned white-hot, and she gasped, staggering against the base of a broken pillar. She could no longer hold back, and she doubled over, her stomach forcibly emptied. Streaks of blood splattered the ground, and she held her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.

_Maker, what…_

“Elissa!”

Alistair made to run to her, when a deafening roar broke through the chamber. The ground screamed, wrent apart by the invisible forces. Elissa scrambled, jumping away before she’d fall into nothingness. Alistair, Varric and Cassandra were forced onto the other side, backed against the south ridge with a handful of soldiers. They barely had time to recover as the rift burst into life, and an enormous Pride demon tore out of the Fade.

It crashed down onto the stone, and Elissa swore, taking cover behind some rubble. She was stranded; there was no way she could face it alone.

The Pride demon growled, taking lumbering strides forward. Still Lahara kept singing, but she was almost at the end of the hymn, and her voice was wearing out. Elissa knew the Herald wouldn’t be able to draw on such power a third time; this was their only chance.

The Pride demon had to fall.

Gritting her teeth, Elissa emerged from her hiding place, her blades in hand. The Pride demon glared, grinding its teeth, when hurried steps rushed from behind. A gust of wind of followed, and Bethany and Leliana appeared, halting by her side. They must have jumped from the ridge.

“Lara’s getting tired,” Bethany said, bracing her staff. “We don’t have much time!”

“This is all that stands between us and victory,” Leliana said, nocking an arrow. “We can do this!”

Elissa glanced between them, her eyes filling with warmth. She took point, tilting her sword forward.

“Then let’s end this!”

The Pride demon bellowed, lashing out a whip of lightning. The three scattered, and Elissa bolted, heading straight for the creature. Her sword caught flame, and a flurry of arrows sank deep into the demon’s eyes. It screamed, blinded, and Elissa yelled, swinging her blade savagely. It carved a chunk of its torso free, and she slammed her dagger into its belly. Blackened blood spilled over her arms, and she yanked the knife away, retreating.

Twin spears of ice followed, driving through the demon’s chest and pinning it against the ruptured ground. Flailing, the Pride demon lashed out, sending bolts of energy in all directions. Elissa dived behind a fallen pillar, shielding her head with her arms as lightning blasted the overhanging stone. Bethany sprinted to Leliana, raising a barrier to deflect the debris.

The spears snapped, and the Pride demon righted itself, adorned with multiple wounds. It cricked its neck, then roared, sending the chamber quaking.

“How is it still standing?” Leliana hissed, drawing another arrow. At the same moment, Lahara’s singing ceased. The rift began to vibrate, threatening to explode open again. Elissa clenched her fist.

_No, no!_

Without thinking she sprang into the open, her sword held high. One shot, if she could kill it with _one more strike!_

She leapt, forcing all her strength into her blade. The Pride demon made to block, but it was too slow. Elissa’s sword ripped right into the demon’s head. The cut was clean, severing all the way down to the base of its neck. A fountain of blood gushed out, soaking her, and the demon thrashed. Its claw caught Elissa’s face, scoring a deep tear across her brow and cheek, and she cried out, falling back. She lost her grip on her sword hilt and hit the ground, hard.

“Elissa!” Leliana and Bethany called her name in unison. Soon they were both upon her, and they half-carried, half dragged her behind the rubble again. Elissa groaned, her back and hips singing with pain, her left eye streaming with blood.

“I thought I told you not to push yourself!” Bethany snapped, summoning a healing spell. She pressed her palm over Elissa’s bleeding brow, and Elissa winced, the blue aura repairing the broken skin.

“You stupid, stupid fool!” Leliana spluttered. She clasped Elissa’s palm, her grip almost painful. “That could’ve killed you!”

“But…it worked…” Elissa weakly raised her free hand. “Look.”

The two turned their eyes skyward, and were stunned into silence. The sickly green glow that had tainted the entire region for so long was now absent, the hole in the heavens mended at last. It didn’t take long for the realisation to sink in, and the mages and soldiers started cheering.

The Breach was finally sealed!

However, the elated cries were soon drowned out by an earth-shattering shriek. Elissa flinched, bolting to a sitting position. Her Shard screamed in answer, and she grabbed at the rune. Her eyes fell to the defeated Pride demon, and her breath caught. Hundreds of thousands of tiny black fragments were swarming it like hungry ants, and its limbs began to twitch.

“Maker, move, now!” Her pains forgotten, she grabbed Leliana and Bethany, hauling them across the cracked stone floor. She pushed them behind the furthest pillar, then spun around, her mouth dry.

“Elissa, what’s…” The rest of Bethany’s words stuck in her throat. “Andraste’s grace, no, _it can’t be_!”

“What’s happening?” Leliana asked, confused. “Why are you both so…”

Another screech cut through, and the bard clenched her teeth. Elissa’s brows narrowed, as the corpse of the Pride demon started to rise. Now it had turned completely black, and the shimmering particles rolled off its body like charcoal dust. Crimson eyes burned beneath the shadows, and the dust monster howled, flexing its newly-formed claws.

As Elissa stared, her heart in her throat, something thudded into the ground on her left. She turned, catching a female figure in red and black. The woman hurried out of the shadows, revealing her brown hair and the twin daggers across her back. She was also joined by two others; a broad-shouldered Qunari warrior and a lithe, blonde-haired boy. They all marched towards them, and Bethany gasped.

“Sorry I’m so late,” Hawke said, flashing a lop-sided grin. She pulled her daggers to hand, and her comrades followed suit. “But the real party’s only just begun!”


	30. Chapter 30

“Amber?” Bethany’s jaw hung slack. “When did you...”

“Will save the stories for later,” Hawke interrupted, nodding towards the dust monster. “We need to kill this thing before the rest get here!”

“The _rest?_ ” A chill ran down Elissa’s spine. “You mean there’s more?!”

“Less talking, more fighting!” the Qunari warrior boomed, as the dust creature roared.

It lurched onto all fours, charging right for them. Every step sent shock waves through the floor, and the Qunari grunted, meeting it head on. He swung his axe, slicing its side, but the wound rapidly reformed. Howling, the creature countered with its claw. The Qunari caught the blow with his hand, twisting its arm clean off. The monster groaned, retreating. Seconds later the limb had regrown, and it bolted for Leliana.

Elissa snatched the bard’s hood, yanking her back before the creature would rip into her. Then Elissa flipped her dagger around, catching its eye. The crimson glow vanished, and the beast bellowed, bucking its knees upwards. It caught Elissa in the stomach, and she flew backwards, slamming into a broken pillar. Agony burned down her back, and she caught herself on her hands, her breaths reduced to choking gasps.

Snarling, Leliana let loose a host of arrows, but they all passed straight through the creature. It pounced, ready to finish Elissa off. But before it reached her, the blond-haired boy suddenly appeared. He blocked the monster with his knives, staring into its burning gaze.

“ _Howling arrows that raze every quarter, a prison of steel and sorrow bound by voices I must heed,”_ the boy muttered, showing surprising strength as the creature struggled to overcome him. “ _Only anger can set me free!”_

“Cole!” Hawke blazed forward, yelling as she slashed the back of the creature’s neck. The blackened flesh split open, a dry wound, and in return a fragment of metal shot out. Hawke threw herself to the ground, narrowly missing losing an eye. The monster latched onto Cole’s knife, tearing it from his grasp, and the boy winced, retreating.

“My turn again!” The Qunari warrior ran into the fray and hammered the monster with the blunt edge of his axe. It went sailing into the air, crashing into a pile of rubble on the far side of the ruins.

“Elissa!” Leliana was at her side in an instant. “Are you alright?” She knelt down, inspecting the scrapes on Elissa’s back and arms.

“Ow,” Elissa coughed, as Leliana helped her to sit.

“Is this the creature you faced when you found the Shards?” the bard asked.

Elissa managed a nod, struggling to her feet again. Her Shard flickered, no longer stirring sickness, but now it was replaced with a vice-like pressure around her chest. She wasn’t sure if she appreciated the exchange.

“Wasn’t as...strong as this,” she muttered.

“It’s thanks to the red lyrium,” Hawke said, watching the creature fight its way out of the debris. “It lets Corruption reanimate demon corpses, and makes them almost impossible to kill.”

“Sounds like you found out a lot while you were away,” Bethany mused.

“And the only way to beat them is to keep hitting ‘em until they can’t reform,” the Qunari warrior said, brandishing his axe. “My favourite part, of course.”

“You wouldn’t have taken this job otherwise, would you, Iron Bull?” Hawke smirked.

Elissa frowned, a memory from the dark future sparking.

“Wait, there’s an easier way,” she said, bringing her hand against the rune on her chest.

“Really?” Hawke blinked. “I’m all ears, Elissa!”

Before Elissa could elaborate, however, the dust creature burst free. It leapt, landing just short of Leliana.

“Watch out!” Elissa twisted round, forcing the bard against the pillar, then screamed, the monster’s fangs sinking into her left shoulder instead. Warmth trickled down her arm, soaking into her shirt and gauntlet. Her vision began to swim, and she groaned, sagging against Leliana. Behind her Hawke and Iron Bull yelled, laying into the creature and sending it reeling.

“ _Bethany!_ ” Leliana screeched, snatching Elissa into her lap. The movement jarred her shoulder, and Elissa cried out, jerked back into wakefulness. Her left arm was numb. The mage was there in moments, and Elissa clenched her jaw, the healing aura seeping into her for a second time. She slumped against Leliana, fighting to keep her eyes open. The magic would stop the bleeding, but pain would continue to hinder, and she was so tired...

“Leave this to them,” Bethany pleaded, tightening her hold. “You’re too exhausted, and the Shard...”

“It’s...the only way...to kill it...quickly,” Elissa protested.

“It could very well kill _you_ quickly!” Leliana shot back. “Bethany’s right, you can’t fight like this.” Her grip turned to iron. “I won’t let you.”

“No.” The boy named Cole appeared again, right beside them. He stared at Elissa, a shimmer rippling across his pupils. “ _Tear into the core, shatter the crystal that gives false life, relieve the suffering of a fragmented heart...”_

Elissa shivered, as if icy water had been poured over her. She wanted to tear her eyes from Cole, yet she found it impossible to look away. His gaze was so intrusive, but while Elissa could barely make sense of his words, there was no mistaking where they had come from.

_Those were my thoughts..._

A sudden quake shook the Conclave ruins, and loose debris began to rain down. Hawke and Iron Bull were forced to let up their assault, dodging the hailing rocks. The dust creature screamed, swiftly healing itself.

“Damn it, we lost our chance!” Hawke shouted. Her Shard glowed on her forehead, and Elissa snapped her eyes shut, a new set of thoughts pressing against hers.

**Can’t let it...will regroup with the others...pass on knowledge...the Red Templars will destroy…**

The rest melted into a scream, as the creature sliced through Hawke’s thigh. The next blow cracked into her ribs, and she staggered back, dropping her daggers.

“Amber!” Bethany cried.

The mage sprang, hurrying to her injured sister. The dust monster bellowed, making for her, but Iron Bull jumped into its path. He tore into the creature once more, when it sprouted another limb from its side. The claws melted together, forming a single blade, and snapped his axe in half. A further strike sent the Qunari warrior to the ground. The creature hissed, turning towards Bethany once more.

“ _Enough!”_ Elissa roared. Her Shard rumbled into life, burning through nausea and fatigue, and she shot to her feet. Before Leliana could grab her again, she bolted, all pain fading to the back of her mind. Her heart pulsed in time with the rune on her chest, and then she was upon the creature.

It had no time to react as Elissa rammed her fist into the centre of its chest. Her fingers ripped through the darkness, seizing the cluster of red lyrium inside. Snarling, she wrenched it into the open, severing it from the Corruption. Brilliant light flooded her palm, and the crystals shattered. The creature shrieked, losing form. With nothing to bind it, the black dust spilled into the wind, and it took the last of Elissa’s strength with it.

Her legs gave way, but a pair of hands managed to catch her at the last moment. Someone called out, but then the shadows took over and the chamber disappeared.

* * *

“ _What are you doing?”_

“ _I heard you singing, Etro. You cried out to never be alone again, and I can make it so. Is this not your greatest wish above all else?”_

“ _But...But I cannot, my duty forbids it!”_

“ _You know I would never dare bring harm to your sacred purpose. You can trust me. So will you not accept my gift, beloved?”_

“ _I...I would not refuse, if you truly promise...”_

* * *

“Maker above, Elissa, just... _open...your...eyes!”_

A sharp nail pierced Elissa’s eyebrow, and she flinched, snapped back to the present. Still fuelled with adrenaline, she bolted upright, only to collide with something solid.

“Ow!” The other party also recoiled, and Elissa slumped back to the floor, fresh spots dancing across her vision. Her Shard was aching, along with almost every other joint in her body, and the acid taste was starting to creep back. Maker, she felt like she’d fought an entire legion of darkspawn.

Blinking, she rubbed her bruised forehead, making to sit up more carefully this time. Eventually Bethany’s face emerged from the haze, and she was also holding her head. Angry tears trailed down her cheeks, and she thumped her fist against Elissa’s chest.

“Idiot.” She burrowed her fingers into Elissa’s overcoat. “If...if you do anything like that _again_...”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish, snatching Elissa into an embrace. Pain crackled through Elissa’s shoulder, but she returned the hug, fighting the pounding in her temples.

_What were...those voices..._

Steps rushed, and another hand took her wrist. Leliana crouched, her grey-blue eyes filled with relief.

“Thank the Maker!” She gave Elissa a gentle squeeze. “For a moment I...” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“What…what happened?” Elissa asked, pulling away from Bethany and pressing a palm to her brow.

“Well, you were right about this being quicker,” Hawke commented, joining them. “You did a real number on that dust monster!”

“Did a number?” Iron Bull chortled. “You punched right through it _and_ knocked us all ten feet clear!” He gave a hearty laugh. “You’re definitely my kinda woman.”

Elissa’s cheeks reddened. She hadn’t planned for such a violent reaction. She must have drawn into her Shard too deeply.

“How did you figure out to use your Shard like that, anyway?” Hawke went on.

Elissa sighed.

“A desperate situation,” she said, not wanting to think about the dark future any more than she had to. But killing the dust creatures there hadn’t drained her nearly this much. Perhaps the Fade magic was still affecting her.

“Either way, it’s nice to know there’s a more reliable method to deal with these things,” Hawke said. Her smile faded. “Unfortunately, that’s about all the good news I can offer. It’s only going to get worse from now.”

“So you said,” Bethany broke in. “Are there really more dust monsters coming?”

“That’s part of it,” Hawke answered. “Look, it’ll be easier if I just explain everything to everyone once. Lara and the rest of the Inquisition need to know about this, too.”

Nodding, Elissa made to stand. Almost at once she lost her balance, and Bethany braced an arm around her. Leliana took her other side, making sure she wouldn’t fall again.

They turned to the chasm where the Breach had been sealed. It seemed Alistair, Cassandra and the soldiers had been busy during their fight. They had pulled a pillar free from its foundations and were securing it across the gap. With the ropes in place, Alistair beckoned, and the group hurried across the makeshift bridge.

“Well, aren’t you an army of one, Elissa,” the Warden-Commander joked, poking her arm. “Forget demon slayer, you need to be promoted to demon _destroyer!_ ”

“I have never seen anyone move so fast,” Cassandra said, admiration in her voice. “You are certainly worthy of your titles, Elissa. Without your effort, Lahara might not have been able to finish closing the Breach.”

“That was a very impressive finale, too,” Varric chipped in. “You even managed to summon a Champion!” He winked at Hawke. “You’re going to have to teach me that trick sometime.”

“Good to see you too, Varric,” Hawke grinned, slapping the dwarf’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” the dwarf admitted. “But from the look on your face, I’m counting that as a bad thing?”

“Sadly you’re right, as usual,” Hawke said. “Where’s our good Herald?”

“She passed out the moment the Breach got zipped up,” Varric said. “But Dorian and Solas have been looking after her, back up on the ridge. I’ll take you to her.”

He led the way up the steep path, past the red lyrium deposits, and soon they were back on the upper platform. The mages were scattered around, tending the soldiers’ wounds, while Cullen, Solas and Dorian were gathered beside Lahara. She was lying on a borrowed cloak, her head cushioned beneath a rolled up blanket. Although she appeared no worse for wear, her expression remained troubled, even in sleep.

Bethany tensed. Elissa gently pinched her arm, encouraging.

“It’s okay, I’ll be alright,” she assured.

The mage hesitated, but then she let Leliana take over. Elissa renewed her grip around the bard, for once not overwhelmed with her touch.

Bethany sat beside the Herald, brushing back Lahara’s auburn locks. Lahara didn’t stir, her breaths soft and even.

“Fiona’s seen to her. She’s fine, if a bit sleepy,” Dorian said. “Still, how Lahara takes this all in her stride is beyond me.”

Cullen nodded.

“Yes, and she’s not the only one.” The Commander’s eyes fell to Elissa. “That was quite a show you put on, Warden. Though perhaps I shouldn’t be too surprised, given your reputation.” He bowed. “Thank you.”

“It was a joint effort,” Elissa said, growing uncomfortable with all the praise. “I just played my part as best I could.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Dorian scoffed, his moustache twitching. “Clearly sealing the source of this entire mess wasn’t enough. You also had to go up against that Corruption demon and blast it into the middle of next week!”

“That was not an easy battle,” Solas added, his brows narrowed. “I did not think demons would be susceptible to Corruption like that. I do not like it at all.”

“I know, and we’re not even at the main event yet,” Hawke said.

“Main event?” Cullen raised a brow. “Are you implying we have another fight on our hands, Champion?”

“That, and more,” Hawke answered. “I’ll explain what I can, but Lara needs to hear this, too.”

Bethany nodded, and shook Lahara. The Herald’s brow twitched, and she scowled.

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Lahara whined, making to roll over.

“Sorry Lara,” Hawke said, kneeling beside her, “but this really can’t wait.”

Lahara’s eyes snapped open, and she immediately sat up. The dark circles remained, but her gaze was very much alert.

“Amber?” She blinked, then raised a brow at Bethany. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No, but you’re going to wish you were by the time I’ve finished,” Hawke replied. “Well done on sealing the Breach, by the way.”

“It sounds like that was the easy part, if you’ve suddenly shown up,” Lahara answered, biting back a long yawn. “What’s happening?”

“Well, let’s start with the least shocking parts.” Hawke paused, taking a breath. “I found out who caused the original explosion at the Conclave.”

Both Cassandra and Leliana’s ears perked up.

“You know who murdered Most Holy?” The Seeker’s jaw tensed.

“Who?” Leliana asked, clenching her fist.

Hawke licked her lips, casting a glance to Varric.

“Varric, you’re not going to like this one bit,” she said. “The one who started this entire madness with the rifts, who the Venatori venerate as their ‘Elder One’, is none other than Corypheus.”

Varric’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“Andraste’s ass, you can’t be serious!” he spluttered. “But we most definitely killed him!”

“Corypheus?” Elissa repeated, raising a brow. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“I’d be surprised you hadn’t heard of him, considering he was in the custody of the Grey Wardens,” Hawke said, “but I think he was one secret they guarded a bit too closely.”

“First I’ve heard of this, too,” Alistair said, frowning. “Who, or what, is he?”

“He’s something akin to a sentient darkspawn,” Hawke answered, “and that’s just as bad as it sounds.”

Alistair and Elissa exchanged a troubled glance.

“He was imprisoned in the Vimmark Mountains a long time ago,” Hawke went on. She turned to Bethany. “Some years back, though, the Wardens realised his binding was weakening, so they asked our father as resident apostate to renew the seals.”

“Really?” Bethany’s eyes widened. “Father never mentioned that before.”

“With good reason,” Hawke said. “Anyway, not long after you and Elissa left Kirkwall, Varric and I found ourselves approached by a Grey Warden. He was in charge of Corypheus’s prison, and the wards were failing again. But he wanted to destroy him outright rather than keep him locked up, so he needed someone with Malcolm’s blood to undo the seals.”

“And we did exactly as he said,” Varric said. “We broke through and killed that thing, several times over!”

“Clearly you didn’t kill him hard enough,” Lahara mused, holding a hand to her chin. “But why would something like that want to murder the Divine? I mean, the Chantry doesn’t exactly paint a favourable picture of the darkspawn, but still...”

“That remains a mystery,” Hawke admitted. “Hence my complete shock when we came across him again.”

“But how _did_ you discover him?” Leliana asked. “Does this Corypheus also have links with Corruption?”

“He does now,” Hawke answered. “After you foiled his scheme to get the mages, he went for the Templars, who we were tracking. They joined him, and gave him the means to make more dust creatures. Now, thanks to the red lyrium, Corruption can possess demons, which turns them into almost indestructible killing machines.”

“As we saw,” Solas murmured. He clenched his fist. “This fool knows not what he is meddling with.”

“And the worst thing?” Hawke gestured to the mountains behind them. “Corypheus is right here with his Red Templar army, waiting to ambush you. He deliberately made the Breach unstable again so you’d have to confront it. He would’ve fought you right here and now, but Merrill, Fenris and the rest of Iron Bull’s mercenaries have been sabotaging his forces, buying us some time.”

“Maker above...” Lahara held a hand to her mouth. “We’re all spent, there’s no way we can put up another fight!”

“That was his plan all along,” Hawke said. “He’s obsessed with the mark on your left hand, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to get it back.”

“Damn it, he can have it for all I care!” Lahara spat. She grimaced, holding her temple. “I wish I could remember what happened when this all started! Maybe then I’d have a better idea of what that madman is planning.”

Elissa’s gaze softened. It was a frustration she knew too well.

“That may well remain out of our reach, but at least we have something to work with,” Cassandra said. “Champion, I cannot thank you enough. You have given us a chance we would not have otherwise.”

“What ‘chance’, Seeker?” Cullen scoffed. “Haven is poorly defended, and the bulk of our troops are exhausted. Delays or not, we’ll be crushed in moments!”

“I was not thinking about holding our position,” Cassandra countered. “We must evacuate Haven, and use this time to spare as many lives as possible.”

“But evacuate where?” Cullen challenged. “We can’t just run into the wilderness and hope for the best!”

“No,” Leliana agreed, “but there is a path we can take to higher ground, where Corypheus will not be able to follow.”

“Oh?” Lahara raised a brow.

“The Pilgrim’s Road,” Leliana said. “It avoids the major routes, and cuts a safer, less travelled path into the most remote parts of the Frostbacks.”

“Yes, I remember,” Alistair piped up. “That was how we escaped the Temple of Sacred Ashes, wasn’t it? When that High Dragon cut us off.”

“It is the very same,” Leliana said. “And if we move swiftly, we should be able to minimise our casualties.”

A brief silence followed, as everyone let the knowledge sink in.

“So, is this our plan, Herald?” Cullen asked.

All eyes fell to her, and Lahara tightened her jaw.

“Yes,” she said at last. “Take everyone back and evacuate Haven. The Inquisition can’t die out here.”

“A good strategy,” Hawke agreed, “but I’m worried the dust monsters might still be able to track you. We need to take them out as a priority.”

“How many are there?” Bethany asked.

“At least four,” Hawke said, “but with the Breach sealed, Corypheus won’t have as easy access to demons as before. If we can get rid of them, it’ll take him a while to make more.”

“Then let me handle that,” Elissa announced. “I can...”

“You can’t do much of anything right now,” Bethany countered. “It took all of us just to take down _one_ of those creatures, and it’s completely worn you out. You can barely even stand up by yourself, let alone fight more of them!”

“Not to mention you’re not the only one who knows that Shard trick,” Lahara added, flexing the fingers of her right hand. “I can teach Amber as well. We’ll be more than covered.”

“But...”

“Elissa, you’ve done enough already,” Alistair murmured. “Sit this one out.”

Elissa scowled, not willing to concede, when Leliana dug her fingers into Elissa’s side.

“Elissa, please,” the bard said. “This is not a burden you have to shoulder this time. Let Lahara and Amber do what they need to.”

“Yes,” Bethany added. “And you needn’t worry. I’ll be watching out for them.”

“Oh no you won’t,” Hawke argued. “You know magic is useless against those monsters, and we’ll have our hands full without having to worry about you, too.”

“And who’s going to heal you two when they’ve tried to carve you to ribbons?” Bethany shot back. “Someone has to keep you going until they’re all defeated!”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Beth, this is not up for...”

“Spymaster, Herald!”

The group turned towards the ruins above. A scout was scrambling through the debris, coming straight towards them. Finally he came to their side, panting madly.

“Scout Charter?” Leliana blinked. “What’s to report?”

Charter took a moment to catch his breath, before he stood tall, his face grim.

“An unknown force is moving towards Haven from the east,” he said. “They’ll arrive within the next couple of hours, and there’s no-one left to defend us!”

Leliana swore in Orlesian, and Cullen gasped.

“Damn it, looks like time’s up,” Lahara muttered.

She stood up, squaring her shoulders.

“Alright, enough arguing. Here’s the plan.” She took a breath. “We all go back to Haven, then split up. Cassandra, Beth, you stay with me and Amber. We need to make sure we destroy all of the dust creatures. Once we’re done, we turn tail and run. We are not staying a second longer than we need to.”

She faced the others. “Leliana, you’ll need to lead the evacuation, since you know the path. Alistair and Elissa will help you. And Cullen, you need to ensure you can scrape together enough supplies so the Inquisition can survive for at least a few days out there.”

“What about me?” Iron Bull asked.

“You stick with the Herald and me,” Hawke said. “The rest of the Bull’s Chargers and Merrill and Fenris will meet us in Haven, no doubt, and will give us extra back up.” She turned to Cole. “Cole, I want you to support the evacuation.”

“Whatever I can do to help,” Cole murmured.

“Good, glad that’s sorted,” Lahara said. She hesitated. “And Cullen, if the timing gets too tight...”

“Yes, Herald?”

“You bury Haven, no matter who’s left inside.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixed POVs again between Elissa and Lahara, starting with Lahara. Also this chapter got needlessly long—sorry! :3

 

The journey back to Haven took much less time, but it was filled with just as much uncertainty. Lahara yawned, rubbing her eyes, although it did little to dispel her tiredness. Sealing the Breach had taken more out of her than she’d let on, and her left hand ached quietly in the background. Still, the horrible screeching in her ears had ceased, so she could be thankful for something, at least.

Her Shard, however, remained quite excitable. It pulsed with warmth, as if re-energised by the proximity of its sisters. Considering what they were about to face, it helped lend some hope. For all the trouble the strange rune had given, perhaps it was still a good thing to have come across it.

“You’re sure you know how to defeat those things?” Bethany broke her thoughts, and the Herald felt the mage’s fingers clasp hers. “And it’s not going to put your life in danger?”

Lahara rolled her eyes.

“For the twentieth time, Beth, _yes!_ ” She ran a hand through her hair, letting out an irked breath. “Look, you can ask Dorian if you don’t believe me, but you’re really fussing over nothing.”

“And even if there was a risk, it’s one we have to take,” Hawke said, walking behind them. “We don’t have a lot of options, and this is the only way we can stop Corypheus from chasing us.”

“Honestly, it’s not nearly as dangerous as Elissa made it look.” Lahara poked Bethany’s shoulder. “So stop worrying!”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Bethany grumbled, hunching into her coat. “I just...” She fingered her collar. “I don’t want what happened to Elissa to...”

“It won’t,” Hawke affirmed. “For one thing, we’re not fighting twenty demons as a warm-up.”

“Yeah, did you see how many Grim took out even before that Pride demon showed up?” Varric added. “Not to mention she wasn’t in top shape to start with. She did well getting that far.”

“But you two aren’t without injury, either,” Bethany pointed out.

“We’re in better nick than our Hero,” Hawke said, brushing the healed cut on her thigh. “It’ll be enough.”

“Besides, you promised to look after us, right?” Lahara nudged Bethany in the ribs. “We’ll be fine.”

Bethany sighed.

“I’ll do everything I can,” she said softly.

“I know you will.” Lahara held Bethany’s hand tighter. “I’ll make it up to you afterwards, I promise.”

She kissed the mage’s cheek, and Bethany’s face flushed. Hawke raised an amused brow.

“Oh, this is news to me, sis,” the Champion said slyly. “Since when did you two become official?”

Bethany buried her nose in her scarf.

“Amber, if...if there’s a problem, then...”

“Now why would I suggest something like that?” Hawke broke into a playful smile. “I was thinking it was about damn time!” She slapped her sister on the back. “You made the poor Herald wait long enough.”

“Is that so?” Lahara asked, brow raised. “What gave that away?”

“Eh, it’s easy enough when you know the signs,” Hawke went on. “I’d say she’s been pining for you since you got me out of the Fade.”

“What signs?!” Bethany’s blush spread.

“That would be telling,” Hawke chuckled. She rested her hands behind her head. “Anyway, it looks like Isabela owes me ten sovereigns.”

“If I recall, the bet was for twenty,” Varric said. “But I’m not sure it still counts, since...”

“Maker, I am not hearing this!” Bethany covered her ears, melting with embarrassment. Lahara chuckled, glad for a break in the tension.

“Come on Beth, I’m only pulling your leg.” Hawke squeezed her sister’s arm. “I’m happy for you, really. I mean, my money was actually on Elissa, given the amount of time you spent together, but hey, what’s a Hero of Ferelden to the Herald of the Inquisition?”

“Are you suggesting dear Bethany was only after me for my wealth and reputation?” Lahara asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Well, I’m not sure about reputation, but let me know when the wealth part comes in,” Varric said. “Then I’ll officiate the wedding myself.”

Lahara burst out laughing, but stopped short when she caught Bethany’s gaze. The mage was glancing back to Elissa. Lahara sighed, watching the Warden walk between Leliana and Alistair. She had slipped out of Leliana’s grasp, determined to carry herself independently. But every step required her full concentration, and she struggled to keep pace. Leliana’s eyes never left her, wrought with concern.

“I wish she’d stop trying to take everything onto herself,” Bethany murmured.

Lahara gave a wry smile.

“Something tells me you’ve been wishing that for a while,” she said, turning back to the path ahead.

“Elissa never hesitates to help anyone else, but she hardly ever lets others help her.” Bethany shook her head. “I thought she’d be better after getting her memories back, but nothing’s changed. If anything it’s gotten worse.”

“Take on the burdens of others, so that you might forget your own,” Hawke said, folding her arms. “You can’t really blame her, Beth. Everyone knows what happened to the Couslands when the Blight started, and she had more than enough to worry about after the Wardens were slaughtered. It probably was the only thing that let her cope.”

“But this is different,” Bethany argued. “In fact she’d have no burden if she’d just _trust_ her feelings instead of constantly fighting them!”

“Maybe, but there’s not a lot we can do for that,” Lahara replied sadly. “It’s one lesson she’s going to have to learn for herself.”

The rest of the conversation died away as they came to Haven’s main bridge. From here Lahara could see the training grounds being dismantled, the remaining soldiers packing tents and claiming whatever weapons they could carry. The stables were similarly busy, with pack mounts being loaded by the dozen. Most of the outposts were empty, and the trebuchets were abandoned.

Lahara made for the gates, when the dull echo of a war horn sounded. The Herald looked back to the mountains, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Initially nothing seemed to have changed, but then a flicker of movement caught her eye.

“Maker, they’re moving faster than I realised,” Hawke growled. “At this rate you’ll have an hour, tops.”

“Herald!”

Josephine’s voice echoed from the gate. Lahara and the others hurried to her, and the ambassador’s eyes filled with relief. “Oh thank the Maker, you’re all here! We are in big, big trouble.”

“We know,” Lahara said. “Did you get Scout Charter’s message?”

“Yes,” Josephine said, “and I have made as many preparations as I could, given such short notice.”

“Any idea of numbers?” Hawke asked.

“Most of the civilians—just shy of a hundred—are sheltering in the Chantry,” Josephine said. “We have around thirty injured, and twelve are completely immobile. Quartermaster Threnn reports food supplies will last around two weeks, if carefully rationed, but we are very short on warm clothing and tents. At a best guess, we could perhaps survive a week, possibly a few days more.”

“Add to that the rest of the mages and soldiers, and it’ll be less,” Cullen said.

“Guess this is as good as it’s going to get,” Lahara muttered. “Nice work, Josie.”

“So what is our next move?” Josephine asked.

“It gets a bit complicated, but I’ll try to keep it simple,” Lahara said. “All you need to know is that Leliana knows a way out, and will lead the evacuation. Support her with everything you’ve got.”

“Of course. And what about yourself?”

“We have a small dust problem to take care of,” Hawke informed her. “We’ll catch up as soon as we’re done.”

Josephine blinked. “I assume that reference means something, but I trust your judgement, Herald. I wish you the best of luck.”

Lahara smiled, then turned to Leliana. The spymaster was still focused on Elissa, who was resting on a boulder. Alistair was helping her to sip water. The Warden’s face was pale, and she wasn’t looking too good at all.

“Leliana?” Lahara called the spymaster’s name, but Leliana remained oblivious. Lahara sighed, then waved her hand in front of Leliana’s face. “Anyone home?”

Leliana jumped, broken from her thoughts. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry, forgive me,” she said.

“It’s alright, I understand,” Lahara answered. “Josephine’s got everything set, so I’m leaving the evacuation in your hands.” She grasped Leliana’s shoulders. “Give the order to move out and get going.”

“At once, Lara.” Leliana clasped the Herald’s wrist. “Maker protect you, and everyone else.”

“All going to plan, we should catch up soon,” Hawke said. “So keep a tent warm for us.”

“Consider it waiting for you,” Leliana said.

She turned, beckoning to the others. Solas, Dorian and Alistair gathered around her. Elissa took a little longer to rise, but soon she was at their side as well. The Warden faced Lahara, and her gaze softened.

“Be careful,” she said. “All of you.”

“You too,” Lahara answered. “No more heroics for today, yeah?”

“That goes double for you,” Elissa retorted. “This will be far more dangerous than fighting demons.”

“Probably, but we have two Shards at our disposal,” Lahara said. “We’ll be alright.”

“It would be better if you let _me_...”

“Elissa, we’ve discussed this already,” Lahara cut her off. “Like it or not, as part of the Inquisition you follow _my_ orders. And I say you help the evacuation.”

For a moment Elissa looked like she would press her argument, but then she let out a conceding breath.

“Fine,” Elissa said. “But don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Lahara smirked. “Deal?”

That got the Warden smiling again, and she gripped the Herald’s hand firmly.

“Sure.” Then Elissa turned to Bethany, and they shared a long embrace. The mage whispered something into Elissa’s ear, and the Warden frowned, but made no further comment. She withdrew, and Alistair took her place, offering Bethany words of encouragement.

“Good luck, Herald,” Cullen said. “I will station some men in Haven to help with your retreat.” He paused. “They…know what to do if things don’t turn out as we hope.”

Lahara gave a grave nod.

“Then let us move out.” Leliana stood tall, then began to walk towards the Chantry. The mages and soldiers followed, the pack mounts in tow. Cullen, Solas, Alistair and Dorian also bowed, striding after them. Cole slinked into the crowd as well, leaving only Elissa. She cast a final gaze to the mountains, before she too entered Haven and disappeared beyond the gates.

Lahara swallowed, rubbing her hands together. The butterflies had roused in her stomach, and she took a deep breath. It had been one thing to face an unstable Breach, but the prospect of fighting four overpowered creatures of Corruption was starting to hit.

 _Easy, Lara,_ she thought, clenching her right hand. _We can do this._

She gazed to the horizon again, figures of red starting to pepper the landscape.

“They’ll be within range soon,” Cassandra said.

“Right.” Lahara braced her fists, pushing aside her fatigue. It was time for round two.

However, as she began to formulate a plan, something else caught her eye. She turned to the upper path, where a small group was hurrying towards them. Most of its members she didn’t recognise, but a white-haired elf stood out amongst them. Her eyes widened, and Hawke’s face flooded with relief.

“Right on time, Krem!” Iron Bull boomed, raising his arm as the newcomers came to a halt beside them. “What’s the situation?”

“We did what we could,” Krem said, catching his breath. “Managed to disrupt their main supplies and destroy a lot of their red lyrium stock, but there’s still more than enough of them to raze this place to the ground.”

“And the dust monsters?” Hawke asked.

“Four of them on their way,” Fenris reported. “But Merrill did find a way to slow them down, so we have a better chance at defeating them.”

“It probably won’t do a lot now,” Merrill admitted.

“Hey, we’ll take anything that gives us an edge,” Hawke said, putting her arms around the two. “Thank you, both of you.”

“So Chief, what now?” Krem asked.

Before Iron Bull could answer, the war horn sounded again; much, much closer. Then at last men in red and bronze armour emerged from the rocks, and they charged.

Lahara snarled, summoning lightning between her palms.

“Don’t let them break through!” She lashed out, scorching the first wave, and Bethany and Merrill followed suit. Krem tossed Iron Bull his sword, grabbing a dagger from his belt. They bolted into the lines, Cassandra and Fenris at their heels. Varric and the mercenary archer took aim, and soon blood began to spill.

Lahara aimed another bolt of lightning, but after she released it, Hawke grabbed her arm.

“Conserve your strength!” the Champion warned. “They can handle the Red Templars, but we’re the only ones who can deal with the dust monsters!”

Lahara gritted her teeth, but she knew Hawke was right. Reluctantly she lowered her arm, letting the energy dissipate. Still she kept her eye on Bethany, ready to cast again should the mage need help.

Thankfully the first wave of Red Templars proved no match, and the party regrouped.

“So, you’re not just smoke and mirrors after all, Herald,” Krem commented. “I’ve never seen a mage wield such power without a staff, and without using blood magic, either.”

“Call me lucky, I guess,” Lahara answered, although she too had been equally intrigued by her new ability. No doubt it was another gift from her Shard.

“This is madness,” Cassandra said, rolling over a Templar’s body with her foot. “The red lyrium has removed them from their senses!”

“That’s not all it does,” Fenris added. “Here comes more!”

Lahara jerked her head around. Her jaw hung slack. More Red Templars were coming through, but along with them was a huge, lumbering... _abomination_. Giant crystals bulged from its back and shoulder, its entire form unbalanced, inhuman. It roared, breaking into an unsteady run.

Cassandra met it first, deflecting its strike. It was quicker than it appeared, and a second swipe sent the Seeker to the ground. Bethany threw a spear of ice, and the monster caught it, crushing it. Fenris yelled, swinging his broadsword high, and managed to cleave its arm. Blood sprouted, and Iron Bull and Krem flanked the creature, tearing into it. Cassandra wiped her bruised cheek, before jumping in once more.

A crackle echoed across the frozen lake, and Lahara gasped. The first dust monster had appeared, and it was galloping straight towards them. It wasn’t as large as the other one had been, but it sported a long neck, six clawed limbs, and four crimson eyes shone out.

“There!” Lahara sprinted, her right hand charged with white light. Hawke bolted after her, daggers drawn.

The creature shrieked, claws splayed. Lahara rolled aside, avoiding the pincers that would have gouged out her insides. Hawke found an opening and thrust her dagger into its neck. It slightly broke the Corruption, but not enough, as four claws latched onto her wrist. They ripped her gauntlet, drawing blood, and the Champion cried out.

Lahara snarled, racing to the creature’s back. She slammed her hand between its shoulders, seeking out the red lyrium core. Her fingertips brushed something, when two elbows rammed into her chest. Groaning, she stumbled back, winded.

Eyes narrowed, Hawke dug her free hand into the dust monster’s throat. She kicked forward, and it was forced to release her. As it crashed to the ground, Lahara sprang once more. Her hands sank into its chest, and she finally found the core. She urged her Shard’s power into it, and the crystal exploded.

The Corruption fell apart, and Lahara’s hands rested on the ice. Her rune was buzzing.

“One down,” she puffed, as Hawke helped her to her feet. The rogue’s left forearm was slick with blood. “You okay?”

“Only a scratch,” Hawke said.

“Hawke, Herald, a little help, please!” Varric called; he and the mercenary archer were pinned between a dust creature and a Templar abomination.

Hawke dashed across the ice, whistling, and the monsters hesitated. It was all the distraction she needed, as she sliced her dagger into the dust creature’s torso. It screamed, arms thrashing. The rune on Hawke’s forehead came to life, and for a second her eyes took on the same glow.

With her next breath she drove her hand into the creature’s shoulder. The crystal was cold and brittle, and immediately shattered at her touch. The monster howled, reduced to ashes. Smirking, Hawke shook the red fragments from her palm, as Lahara blasted the Templar beast. It smacked into the frozen lake, where Fenris easily finished it off.

“Amazing,” Hawke commented, raising her hand to the light. “I could _see_ the core!”

“Looks like your Shard has its own little tricks,” Lahara said. “Keep going!”

She scanned the lakeside, picking out the third dust monster. It was surrounded by Red Templars, and they were making a break for the gate. Cassandra, Merrill and Krem were in their path, but they were struggling to stop their progress.

“We can’t hold them!” Iron Bull shouted, slicing through another abomination. “And I’m not seeing a fourth duster, either!”

“Damn it!” Lahara clenched her jaw. She nodded at Hawke. “Follow my lead!”

“This better not end up like the Fade gateway again!” Hawke called out, running after the Herald. Lahara kept her gaze on the Red Templar escort, the rune on her right hand blazing. She swept her left hand forward, a warning gust of wind escaping her fingertips.

“Get clear!” she yelled, and the others scattered. The Red Templars surged, trying to chase, when Lahara slammed her right palm against the ice below. A tremor ripped through, and cracks started to zigzag the frozen water. The ice beneath the escort shattered, and the Red Templars yelped, plunging into the icy depths. The dust creature roared, sticking out its arms and suspending itself above the break.

“I’ve got this one!” Hawke cried. Her eyes regained the white glow, and then she was upon the monster. She leapt, grabbing its head, and snatched the red lyrium core from between its eyes. Her momentum carried her to the other side, and she crushed the crystal between her fingers. The creature collapsed into the water, unable to hold form.

“Yes!” Hawke punched her fist into the air. “But where’s the last one?”

She was answered by a grunt, as Fenris fell at her feet. His right arm was bloody. She helped him upright, when the Templar abomination roared. Hawke braced herself, shielding Fenris, but then it was thrown backwards by a force spell. Bethany twirled her staff, striking the ground, and it was enough to severe the beast in two. Her brow glistened with sweat, and she sank against her staff.

“We…can’t wait,” Bethany panted. “There’s…too many…”

“Then I say we even the odds,” Lahara said, joining her and resting her hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Everyone, back to the gates!”

The order quickly rippled through, and the group hastily made their retreat. Merrill cast a further spell, making the ice break widen and giving them some space. Lahara was last through, and she slammed the gates shut. She rested against it, catching her breath.

“What did you mean by ‘even the odds’, Lara?” Hawke asked.

“There’s no point sticking it out,” Lahara said. “We’ll have to take our chances with that last dust monster, but we have to stop the Red Templars advancing.”

“The trebuchets.” Cassandra snapped her fingers. “If we can cause an avalanche…”

“That will do all the work for us,” Varric finished. “Good call, Seeker.”

“We don’t have much time,” Lahara said. “Cassandra, Varric, with me. The rest of you get out of here, now.”

“Lara, no!” Bethany whined, but the Herald put her finger to the mage’s lips.

“We’ll be right behind you,” she promised. “I can’t leave this to anyone else.”

Bethany opened her mouth to protest again, but Lahara silenced her with a kiss. The mage wrapped her arms around her, letting the moment linger as long as possible. Eventually they parted, Bethany’s caramel eyes filled with worry.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Lara,” she whispered. “So you’d better not be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lahara smiled. “Now get going!”

Reluctantly Bethany released the Herald, before returning to the others. Hawke took her shoulder, flashing Lahara a thumbs-up. Then she led the way up the hill, towards the abandoned Chantry.

“This way,” Cassandra said, nodding to the west wall. “Hurry!”

Lahara took after the Seeker, her eyes drifting back to the fractured lake. The Red Templars were scrambling, carrying uprooted trees to form a bridge. They would be upon the gates in minutes, if not sooner.

Tearing her gaze back to the path, Lahara soon spotted the trebuchet. The Red Templar archers had made short work of the soldiers, their bodies lining the ground. Lahara bit her lip. She could not fail them.

Cassandra ran to the control lever, jamming her sword into it and forcing it to turn. The mechanism groaned, slowly but surely twisting to face the highest peaks.

“Draw the counter weight!” she barked.

Nodding, Varric and Lahara took the solid wooden bar, hauling it back. The gears clicked, and the main arm cranked backwards. Finally it was set, but before Cassandra could cut the rope, several flamed arrows burst through. One caught her forearm and she cried out, stumbling back.

“Seeker!” Varric primed Bianca, sending an answering volley, when a fierce rumble echoed through the sky. A black shadow loomed overhead, followed by a huge jet of flame. Lahara ducked, sweat pooling from the heat.

“Run!” Lahara screeched, grabbing Cassandra’s arm. They bolted, as the fire caught the wood. The trebuchet burned, now useless, and another roar shook the heavens. It was followed by a blast of wind, as huge, scaled wings beat the air. Lahara’s mouth went dry.

“Oh come on, that’s just cheating!” Her eyes locked onto the enormous dragon that hovered overhead. But as she peered closer, she could see it was no ordinary beast. Crystals of red lined its scales, and its eyes were coal black, infected with Taint.

_Maker…_

_An Archdemon?!_

“Herald, you must escape!” Cassandra declared. “I will…”

The dragon screamed, lunging for the Seeker. Lahara threw both her palms forward, raising a wall of ice. The beast smashed into it, giving time for Cassandra to flee. Lahara didn’t let up, tearing a chunk of earth from the ground and flinging it at the dragon’s head. The blow connected with a sickening crunch, and the dragon shook itself, dazed.

“Get out, now!” Lahara snapped, ushering Varric to run. She tore after them, her eyes intent on the Chantry. Her legs ached, begging for rest, but she pushed onward. They had to get…

Suddenly a quake rocked the ground, and Lahara slipped. She fell, scraping her cheek against the frosted earth.

“Lahara!” Cassandra skidded to a halt, making to turn back, but the dragon had other ideas. A fresh torrent of flame escaped, and the Seeker yelped. Then the beast landed, swinging its tail sideways. It caught Cassandra in the chest and she tumbled into the ruins. Varric swore, and dived after her.

“No!” Lahara clenched her fists, energy gathering in her palms, when something struck her in the back. Choking, she fell to her knees, the mana evaporating. Another blow hit, and she bowled forwards, twisting onto her back. The Archdemon’s breath was right on top of her, and she pushed herself aside, scrambling to her feet.

She had no time to acknowledge pain, as finally she saw _him_ staring down at her. Lahara’s breath caught. His proportions seemed fairly humanoid, but the tightness of skin around his face and limbs marked him as more darkspawn-like. Red lyrium scored his face and arm, a dazzling crimson, and he was holding an unusual orb in his hand. Lahara’s rift mark pulsed, and the orb glowed with an identical green aura.

“So, you are the thief that sought to steal my glory.” His voice was deep, resonant. “The pretender who would see herself the master of rifts.” He scoffed. “You are nothing to the will that is Corypheus.”

“I’m flattered you think so much of me,” Lahara retorted, though inside she was shaking. She didn’t need her Shard to tell her that this… _thing_ before her radiated with power, and it would be more than enough to shred her to pieces.

“I have walked the halls of the Black City and gazed upon its empty throne,” Corypheus went on. “I know power as you will never know. It is time you learnt your place!”

He raised his orb. Lahara cried out, the light triggering her mark. She clutched her wrist, tears welling in her eyes.

_Maker, it hurts!_

“This charade ends, now.” Corypheus stormed forward, and snatched Lahara’s left hand. He hoisted her off the ground, and Lahara howled, her left hand on fire. The mark was trying to tear free, and had no qualms about taking the rest of her arm with it. Her Shard blazed in sympathy, similarly stirred by the energy surging through her body.

Her vision grew hazy, but just before Lahara would lose consciousness, Corypheus threw her back to the ground. Lahara slumped to all fours, her right arm trembling. The rune was ablaze, feeding off the mana surplus, and it was all she could do to contain it.

“So, it seems the Anchor is embedded too deeply in you,” Corypheus mused. “I will have to find another way to enter the Fade.” He raised the orb. “But I will not tolerate a rival!”

He lashed out, and Lahara threw her hands around herself. The spell shot straight to her Shard, and it burned, absorbing the magic. A shiver ran through Lahara, and she stared at her hand. The rune glowed, brilliant and warm, and Corypheus gawked.

“What?” His eyes widened. “Another mark? Impossible!”

A dark smile creased Lahara’s lips, and she flung out her right hand. A lance of pure white escaped, and it struck Corypheus in the belly. It shattered a fragment of red lyrium, and he staggered back, gasping.

“Know power as I’ll never know?” Lahara mocked, charging her right hand again. “We’ll see about that!”

She let loose again, tearing off another crystal, and Corypheus groaned, sinking to one knee. Lahara made to ready a third attack, but a sudden dizzy spell hit her. She held her forehead, her legs unsteady, and Corypheus seized the opportunity. He struck out, and a bolt of green light smacked Lahara in the chest. Her scream caught in her throat, and she collapsed to her front.

The Archdemon growled, lowering its head towards her, its jaws primed.

“Fool,” Corypheus snarled. “Bow to the one who will become as a god of the Old Ones, the one who will save this blighted land from itself and restore order to that consumed by chaos!”

Lahara’s right hand burst into light again, and she snapped her head up.

“Bow to _this!_ ”

She thrust her hand forward, and a wave of air escaped, strong enough to make Corypheus’s balance falter. Another twist of her wrist, and she used the wind to flip back to her feet. Her Shard throbbed, providing a tempo as she spun and whirled, gathering the breeze around her, faster and faster. The Archdemon roared, trying to bite her, but it was pushed back by the hurricane.

At last Lahara swept her hands aside, and the storm exploded. Corypheus cried out, rolling over and over until he slammed into the rock wall. The Archdemon howled, also sent spiralling into Haven’s wall. Lahara didn’t wait, breaking into a run. Corypheus’s bawl of rage echoed, but she refused to look back. She’d only get one chance, and she’d be damned if she would let this monster anywhere near the others.

_Hope you can forgive me, Beth. I might be a bit later than I thought._

Thankfully there was no sign of Cassandra or Varric; they must have escaped. Lahara focused on the Chantry, her teeth clenched. The building was a mess; it had weathered a lot of damage from the earlier earthquakes. Without pausing Lahara raced up its crumbled wall, heading to the rooftop. The spire had collapsed, and she vaulted over it, before glancing back. Corypheus was still freeing himself from the rockfall, while the Archdemon floundered, its head trapped.

“You Old Ones don’t know how powerful we are,” Lahara muttered, raising her right hand.

She closed her eyes, reaching deep into her Shard. The rune burst with warmth, spilling up her arm and then down into her back and through her legs. The ground began to rumble, stirred by the release of magic. Lahara plunged deeper still, beneath the snow and ice, beneath the layers of stone and soil, beneath the lake, beneath the Deep Roads passages, beneath the bedrock, and finally into the boiling ocean in the heart of the earth. The tremors intensified, and the land began to buckle, melting from the rising heat. Cracks started to spread like lightning, filling with red-hot lava, and an explosion cracked across the heavens, releasing a cloud of ash.

Lahara’s eyes snapped open, glowing white with the light of her Shard.

“ _Take this!”_


	32. Chapter 32

The Pilgrim’s Road was a mile or so from the northern-most ridge of Haven. A wooden bridge spanned a deep crevasse, then became a narrow path that wound between the mountains. Thankfully the sky was cold and cloudless, and so the visibility was clear. Elissa raised a hand to her eyes, scouring the snow-capped peaks. The road tapered in several places, shielded by rock and ice, and would provide excellent cover. Still, with the recent quakes, it would also be easy to become trapped under an avalanche, or cornered in an ambush.

If Lahara and the others took too long…

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked back.

“How’re you faring?” Alistair asked, brow raised.

“Just a little tired,” Elissa admitted. A misty breath escaped her, and she fingered her Warden pendant. “I’m worried about the others.”

“Aren’t we all,” Alistair said, glancing back to the village. They could barely see Haven at all now—it was tucked too deeply in the valley. “But we have to show some faith. Lahara knows what she’s doing, and she’s in good company.”

“Right.” Elissa closed her eyes, savouring a moment of rest, before she opened them again and strode forward. She, Alistair and Dorian brought up the rear, while Leliana, Cullen and Josephine led the exodus deeper into the pass. Elissa could just pick out the bard’s lilac hood, and she let out a breath. Presumably they would make as much distance as they could before nightfall, then stop to rest.

Then she would get a proper chance to make amends.

Hushed whispers and frightened glances swept through the civilians, but slivers of hopefulness still shone through. They huddled close to one another, and more than once Elissa felt their stares upon her. She shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to ignore them, but all it did was leave her more unsettled.

“It seems you’re still quite popular with the masses,” Dorian said, folding his arms. “Though I feel that has more to do with your actions at the Breach than anything else.”

“I really didn’t do anything special,” Elissa muttered, brushing a hand over her Shard. The rune was not so irritable anymore, although some nausea lingered in the back of her throat. Yet the way everyone was treating her, as if _she’d_ been the one to seal the rift…

“I’m starting to wonder if this was the real reason you wanted to stay behind,” Alistair chuckled. “You always hate being the centre of attention.”

“Whatever gave you that idea,” Elissa said quietly.

“You shouldn’t take it like that,” Dorian said. “Our Herald is acting as our defender, but in her absence the people still need someone to believe in. And they’re fortunate to have another living legend to turn to.”

Elissa let out a breath, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t wait for Lahara to catch up.

They trudged along the road, pushing through into the next valley. It was slightly more open, and the wind turned biting. Elissa pulled her scarf higher, her cheeks raw. Hard snow crunched beneath her boots, and the cold gnawed at her aching muscles. Her brow creased, and she pushed herself to walk faster. Much as she wanted to close her eyes until the next dawn, she couldn’t afford to fall behind.

So focused on her steps, she almost missed the soft cheep on the breeze. A flash of tawny feathers flitted past, and something landed on her shoulder. Elissa glanced aside. The nightingale chirped at her, and she blinked.

_Couldn’t be…the same one?_

“How sweet,” Dorian commented. “You know, nightingales are a sign of good luck in Tevinter. Maker knows we could use some.”

“Strange to find one in these parts, though,” Alistair said. “I guess with all the craziness with the Breach, the poor thing got lost.”

The nightingale twittered, tilting its head. Cautiously Elissa reached for it, brushing a finger over its breast. It responded by nipping Elissa’s ear. Elissa hissed, jerking her hand to her earlobe, and it flew off into the rocks.

“Good omen, indeed,” she murmured to herself.

She turned back to the refugees, trailing after their footprints. They seemed to make steady progress, but when they reached the following ridge, they came to an abrupt halt. The pack mounts snorted, clawing the ground with their hooves. Even the soldiers and mages shuffled on their feet, uneasy.

Elissa frowned.

“What’s going on?” She pushed her way to the front, Alistair and Dorian in tow. When she reached Cullen, however, the problem was quickly evident. Most of the way ahead was strewn with bloody carcasses; deer, foxes, wolves, even a bear or two. The claw marks were enormous, too great to have been made by any normal animal, and broad reptilian prints lined the snow. Elissa’s eyes widened.

“A…A High Dragon?” Josephine stammered, drawing closer to Leliana. “Living here, in such a frozen waste?”

“They are very adaptable creatures,” Leliana said. “One such dragon inhabited the Temple of Sacred Ashes, until Beatrix’s forces drove it away.” She placed a reassuring hand on Josephine’s arm. “It should have no reason to attack us, so long as we remain clear of its lair.”

“Maker-willing,” Cullen muttered. He faced the soldiers, raising his voice. “I want every ranged fighter to pay close attention to the skies. At any sign of trouble, you may attack without further command!”

Murmurs of agreement ran through the troops. The remaining archers primed their bows, and the mages with mana to spare drew their staffs. Leliana took Scout Charter aside, giving her own orders, and he nodded, taking to the sullied path.

“He will help Sparrow make sure the way ahead is clear,” she said. “We don’t want any surprises.”

“Agreed, especially since we are still too close to Haven for my liking,” Cullen rubbed his hands together. “We must make haste.”

They set off again, the pace noticeably brisker. Leliana however let Cullen lead, dropping back to Elissa’s side. The bard brushed her arm against Elissa’s, and offered a tentative smile.

“You seem to be doing better,” she said. “I’m sorry to push you like this.”

“You really don’t have to fuss over me,” Elissa answered. “You have other things to worry about.”

“That doesn’t mean one of them can’t be you.”

Heat rose in Elissa’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze. Leliana sighed, licking her lips.

“Listen,” the bard began, hesitant. “About…about what you said on the Chantry rooftop…”

Before she could continue, a shout echoed from the rear. Elissa gasped, recognising Hawke’s voice. Both she and Leliana looked back, and they soon spotted the rogue weaving through the lines. Bethany was right beside her, and Elissa’s heart swelled with relief.

The Hawkes halted next to them, followed by Fenris and Merrill. Iron Bull and his mercenaries stuck to the tail end of the refugees, tending to their injuries. However, there was a very noticeable absence of a certain Herald, Seeker and dwarf.

“Made it,” Hawke puffed, resting her hands on her knees. She caught her breath, surveying the group. “I’d have thought you lot would be way ahead by now.”

“Where’s Lara?” Elissa asked.

“And Cassandra, Varric?” Leliana added.

“They went to slow down the Red Templars,” Bethany said. “They shouldn’t be far behind.”

“So Haven is truly lost to us,” Josephine murmured.

“Did you manage to deal with the Corruption demons?” Dorian asked.

“All except one,” Hawke reported. “Then again if I was Corypheus, I’d want some insurance, too. He’s probably holding it in reserve for later.”

“That is unfortunate, but cannot be helped,” Leliana said. “Thank you, Amber, all of you. We will just have to…”

A prickle suddenly ran through Elissa’s chest. She flinched, grasping the rune that had come to life again. Hawke gasped, her own Shard flashing. They exchanged a confused glance, and less than a second later the ground shuddered.

Elissa grabbed Leliana, shoving her against the rocks. Bethany and Hawke threw themselves beside them, as a cascade of snow crashed behind. The mountains groaned, and then a thunderous crack ricocheted off the peaks, like a hundred cannons firing at once. Panicked cries broke out, and then the choking sulphur descended, making Elissa’s eyes water.

“Maker above, what _now?!_ ” Dorian cried.

The quaking continued, and people scrambled for shelter. The skies rapidly darkened, and something burned the back of Elissa’s neck. She released Leliana, retying her scarf to protect her face. Leliana pulled her hood right over, then gazed up at the mountains. A billowing pillar of ash was pouring into the sky, and radiant embers hailed down, hissing as they struck the ice.

“Andraste’s ass, Lara, what the hell?!” Hawke spluttered.

Elissa gawked at the ash cloud, holding a hand above her eyes. Then an ear-piercing shriek tore through, and her breath caught.

“Get _down!_ ” Cullen roared, and everyone fell flat against the earth. Boiling ash fanned overhead, and Elissa cringed, sweat dripping from every pore. Her Shard was still tingling, and she pressed her hand to it, grimacing.

“Watch it!” Alistair threw his shield above Elissa and Leliana, a wave of real fire sweeping towards them. Bethany flung up a barrier of her own, deflecting the flames, but the soldiers behind weren’t so lucky. Elissa gritted her teeth, trying to blot out their screams. Then a blast of icy wind hit, forcing away the smoky heat. Elissa coughed, gasping for the fresh air. Dorian threw another spell, clearing the remaining ash.

“Scatter, don’t give it an easy target!” Cullen yelled. He had drawn his sword, his eyes never leaving the shadow that flew overhead. Elissa growled, bringing her dagger to hand, as Leliana nocked an arrow. Bethany readied a spell, but the High Dragon screeched, beating its massive wings and ducking into the ash cloud once more.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” Leliana hissed.

“We have to get it into the open!” Elissa declared.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Dorian asked.

“Get the other mages to help clear the ash,” Elissa said. “Then aim for its wings. We have to ground it!”

Dorian nodded. He ran to the other mages, calling out orders, and they began to cast.

“Alistair, we need to get the civilians out of here,” Cullen said. “Take the rear guard and find whatever cover you can. Regroup with us further down the valley!”

“On it!” Alistair said. He clasped Elissa’s shoulder. “You don’t have to kill the dragon, just keep it off our backs for a while!”

“Try telling that to Iron Bull,” Hawke smirked. She nodded at her friends. “Fenris, Merrill, give the Warden-Commander a hand. I’ll meet you once we’ve dealt with the dragon.”

“As you wish,” Fenris said.

“Creators keep you safe,” Merrill answered.

They took after Alistair, helping to clear the snow that had trapped several civilians. Elissa followed, slipping past them, then retraced their path to the top of the ridge. Her eyes were stinging, and she brushed the ash from her eyelashes.

“And I thought today couldn’t get any wilder!” Iron Bull grinned. He was already at the summit, his gaze intent on the dragon. “Dalish, Skinner, clip its wings for me! This one’s mine!”

The two mercenaries nodded, taking position. Leliana and Bethany joined them, while Elissa and Hawke flanked Iron Bull and Krem.

“Now!” Dorian raised his staff, and the mages with him channelled their spells together. The windstorm tore through the charred cloud, finally exposing the dragon. It threw its head back, readying another breath of fire, but Leliana and Skinner were faster. Arrows screamed, tearing its wing, and it bellowed, losing height. Dalish and Bethany crossed their staffs, and a single bolt of lightning erupted skyward. The dragon howled, its front leg singed. Snarling, it twisted into a dive, heading straight for them.

“Move!” Elissa yelled, racing out of the creature’s path. She threw her dagger aside, tackling Leliana to the ground. They skidded down the snow-laden road, rolling over and over in a tangle as the dragon struck the cliff above. A ripple shot through the rocks, and a torrent of snow collapsed into the pass, muffling the echoed shouts.

Gasping, Elissa raised herself onto her hands, shaking snow and ash from her hair. Her left shoulder throbbed, and she grasped it, wincing. Leliana shuffled onto her elbows, rubbing the scrape on her knee.

“Maker, I’m going to feel that tomorrow,” Hawke muttered, pressing a hand to the cut on her brow. She sat up, blinking. “Everyone okay?”

“Just about,” Elissa said, stumbling to her feet. She helped Leliana sit, then checked the area. Bethany was nearby, holding a palm to her bruised cheek, while Krem, Dalish and a couple of mages pulled themselves out of the snow, shivering. The avalanche was only minor, but it blocked most of the ridge, effectively splitting them up. Elissa hoped the others hadn’t been caught under the bulk of the debris.

A distant roar caught Elissa’s ear, and she looked up. The dragon was fleeing to Haven, the arrows still visible in its wing.

“Well, that takes care of that, I guess,” Krem shrugged. “Chief’s going to be so upset.”

“No, we still have to stop it!” Bethany cried. “If it goes after Lara…”

Another tremor cut her off, and the peaks shrieked, twisted apart from the forces underground. The group scattered, sheltering against the cliffs. Elissa could only stare, awe-struck as the west mountain fissured, letting loose a brilliant glow that burned red-hot. The magma bubbled, frothing onto the rocks, before making a steady trickle downwards.

Right towards Haven.

Bethany’s eyes widened. Before Hawke could grab her, the mage bolted back towards the village.

“Beth, wait!” Hawke cried, but Bethany didn’t stop. The Champion swore, then tore after her sister.

“Damn it, no!” Elissa was off and running, not caring for Leliana’s protesting shouts. Adrenaline did a good job expelling her fatigue, and she focused on Hawke’s dagger hilts. Thankfully the wind had picked up again, blowing the ash eastwards and keeping it out of the valley. She had to get to them, before…

She had almost reached Hawke when rocks began to tumble from above. The ground buckled, and Elissa staggered, losing speed and sagging against the cliff side. Still the rocks pelted down like rain, when someone grabbed her overcoat. Elissa all but fell backwards, as a sheet of mud, pebbles and boulders hailed from the peaks, tearing huge chunks from the earth. The mess slammed into the path, barring further pursuit.

“We can’t catch them this way,” Leliana’s voice was in her ear. “Follow me!”

Relief swept through Elissa, and she managed a smile. Nodding, she hurried after the bard, who was cutting westwards across the ridge. It wasn’t long before they came to a narrow ledge that spanned the girth of the mountain. Parts of it were also reinforced with planks and ladders; remnants of an old mine.

Leliana kept the lead, taking to the treacherous path with the grace of a cat. Elissa was right behind, though not quite as refined with her movements. They scaled the first ladder, reaching a platform that opened into a cavern. Fissures in the ceiling provided light, reflecting off the puddles that lined the tiles.

They splashed through the ruin, dust trembling onto their shoulders thanks to the grumbling outside. Leliana seemed to know the route well, never once slowing down. Finally they crossed a broad chamber, and emerged back in the open. They were on an outcrop overlooking the village. Elissa scowled, the ash surrounding her in full force.

But that was not the only thing waiting for them.

“Maker, am I glad to see your asses, Grim, Red!” Varric breathed. He was crouched beside the chamber opening, an unconscious Cassandra draped over his shoulders. Blood caked her left side, and her breaths were ragged.

“Cassandra!” Leliana was at her side in an instant, and took the Seeker into her lap. Cassandra’s face was white, her pulse quivering. “What happened?!”

“Corypheus pulled an Archdemon out of no-where,” Varric said, rubbing the ash from his brow. Elissa’s eyes widened. “I think the barb of its tail caught the Seeker here. I managed to cauterise the bleeding, but…” He trailed off. “She’s heavier than she looks. It took me a while just to get her this far.”

“And Lara?” Elissa asked tentatively.

“I haven’t seen her since the mountain blew its top,” Varric admitted.

Elissa swore. Leliana shook her head, cradling Cassandra closer. The Seeker flinched, but still refused to open her eyes. Elissa gritted her teeth. This could not have been easy for the bard.

She touched Leliana’s shoulder.

“You have to take her back,” Elissa said. She pulled Cassandra’s sword from its sheath, placing it in her own. “The mages can heal her. I’ll go after Beth and Amber.”

Leliana’s lip quivered. “You’re asking me to choose between you?”

“I don’t plan on fighting anymore Archdemons,” Elissa said. “One was bad enough. But it’ll take both of you to get Cassandra through the pass. She won’t survive otherwise!”

“Elissa, I can’t…don’t make me…”

Elissa held the bard’s cheek. “I’ll come back, Leliana, I promise.” She lowered her voice. “Because there’s still something I have to say to you.”

“Then just…”

Before she could finish, Elissa snatched her hand away, rushing to the path back to Haven. Leliana called her name, but she was already at the crossroads. Oddly enough, her vow had renewed her strength, and she ran down the hill, her jaw set.

She would not let the bard down again.

By now the first lava flows had reached the village, swamping the lower grounds, and were steadily rising. What remained of the cabins poked above the fiery pit, and everything basked in a hellish glow. The Chantry, however, remained untouched for the moment. Elissa bit her lip, scouring the landscape. There was no sign of Lahara, the Hawke sisters, or even the dragon.

Had she come too far?

The crash of splintered wood ripped through, and Elissa snapped her head to the left. It had come from the north-east ridge. She sprinted across the muddy path, the snows melted from the heat. Soon she reached the top, just in time to hear Bethany’s shriek of agony. She and the dragon were on the other side of the bridge, the latter blocking the way to the pass. The beast jerked its neck aside, and Bethany fell from its jaws, unmoving.

“ _Beth!_ ” Elissa pelted across the planks, yanking Cassandra’s sword into her hand. Blinded with rage, she buried the blade into the dragon’s shoulder. The beast roared. It quickly retreated to the sky, taking Cassandra’s sword with it. Elissa didn’t care, the blade torn from her grasp. She dropped beside the mage. A deep puncture was visible on Bethany’s thigh, and it was bleeding thickly.

Elissa pressed her hands against the wound, her fingers shaking. Bethany winced, trembling. Maker, there was so much blood…

“You _idiot, sis!_ ” Hawke hollered, bursting out of the mountains. She threw herself onto the mage, her eyes streaming. “Why didn’t you wait for me?!”

Bethany’s only response was a pained groan. Teeth clenched, Hawke pushed herself upright.

“You are in _so_ much trouble, young lady,” she muttered, snatching off her cloak. With her dagger she ripped it into strips, and she and Elissa began binding the wound. Bethany hissed, fighting to stay awake.

“We have to get out of here,” Elissa said.

Bethany snapped her eyes open. Weakly she dug her fingers into Elissa’s arm, managing to shake her head.

“Find…Lara…” she croaked.

Elissa sighed. She held the mage’s hand, squeezing her palm. It was so cold.

“Amber, take her back, now,” she said at last. “There’s a short-cut on the north-west path. I can look around, see if Lara’s…”

“No,” Hawke shot back. “Come on, you run way faster than me! Beth’ll have a better chance if you…”

A maddened howl rang through the rocks, cutting her off, and four huge claws smashed into the path ahead. The dragon had returned, once again blocking the exit to the pass. It thrashed its wings, throwing a flurry of ash into the valley. Elissa protected her face with her forearm, cursing. So long as the creature stood in their way, none of them would have a chance of escape.

There was only one thing for it.

“I’m sorry, Amber.”

Before Hawke could answer, Elissa snatched a dagger from the rogue’s sheath, then bolted to the dragon. Hawke yelled after her, but Elissa only ran faster. She had to make every second count. For Bethany’s sake.

The dragon roared, throwing its neck back, then snapped its jaws downward. The force of its breath ruffled Elissa’s hair, but at the last second she threw herself flat. Her momentum carried her across the mud, right under the beast’s belly. Then she found the soft flesh behind its rear leg, and slammed the dagger into it.

A bellow tore through the cliffs, and the dragon reared, blood pouring from its hindleg. Elissa rolled back to her feet, not letting up her pace as she slipped into the pass. Claws thundered behind her; yes, the dragon had taken the bait!

Elissa followed the path north, but when she came to the crevasse, she took a sharp turn west. It was a risk, as it would bring her to the river of lava, but she only had to keep the dragon’s attention long enough to let the others escape. Then she could circle around to catch up.

_Maker, please, don’t let them die…_

The rumbling footfalls died away, replaced with the heavy beat of leather wings. The dragon was in the air again, looming over Elissa. It started to circle, gathering speed. A small cave stood out ahead, promising protection, and Elissa tucked her head lower. But her legs were crying out; she could not hold this pace much longer.

At last the dragon dived, like an eagle about to pluck a rabbit. Elissa flung herself aside, falling to the mud. It was far too slippery, however, and she lost control, toppling over onto a steep slope. Everything became a blur of stone, ash and sky as she spun and rolled, at the mercy of the wind and earth. Rocks cut into her face, her hands, her legs, and she cried out.

Then the ground vanished, and instinct took over. Her arms grappled for the cliff edge, and the stone pressed uncomfortably into her chest. Legs dangling over empty air, Elissa froze. Her heart in her throat, the shaking heat bore into her, and the world changed. The mountains and ash cloud disappeared, replaced by the burnt steel and sandstone bricks of Fort Drakon.

_The floor’s collapsing!_

_My leg, I can’t move…_

_The girder…it won’t…_

_It’s going to snap!_

_Her voice…she’s almost…if I could just…_

_No!_

_I can’t…_

_I can’t hold on…_

_No, Maker, please!_

**_I don’t want to die!_ **

_“Elissa!”_

Something grabbed her hand, warm and fierce and strong. Elissa clung to it, fighting to surface from the memory. Then another hand came to her shoulder, pulling hard. Finally Elissa found her footing, and she all but threw herself back onto the ledge. A familiar scent broke through the suffocating sulphur, beautiful and spiced like cinnamon, and she wrapped her arms around her saviour, snapping her eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Leliana soothed, returning the embrace. Elissa whimpered, trembling, still trapped in the past.

“Don’t want to die,” she whispered, her chest tight and heaving. “Don’t want to die, I don’t want to…”

“Hush, I’m here, Elissa. I’m here.” Leliana stroked Elissa’s hair, holding her close. “As I should have been that day.” She withdrew slightly, letting their brows touch. “Focus on my voice. You’re not back there at the Fort. You won’t fall.” She grasped Elissa’s hand, pressing it against her chest. “You’re right here, with me. You’re safe. I promise.”

Slowly, her words began to sink in. Elissa concentrated on the bard’s warmth, taking a deep breath, and eventually the real world came back. The cloying mud, the scathing stones, the uncomfortable heat, the tender touch against her cheek…

She found the strength to open her eyes, and at once fell into Leliana’s grey-blue gaze. Time stood still, and for a long moment neither moved, afraid to break the moment. Elissa swallowed, reaching up. Her thumb skimmed Leliana’s jaw, and the bard leant closer.

Before their lips would meet, however, the mountains shuddered once more. Mud, slush and grit lurched down the slope, picking up momentum. Leliana gasped. She anchored her left arm around Elissa, then grabbed the rock wall with her free hand. Still the landslide gathered force, and the bard gritted her teeth, her grip slipping. She glanced over the precipice, and her eyes widened.

“Trust me, Elissa,” she whispered.

Then she let go of the cliff, and they plunged into the waiting abyss.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I think I’ve toyed around with these two enough ;). This is my favourite part of the story so I hope you like it, too!

Elissa’s scream was short-lived. Not moments afterwards they smacked through brittle ice, falling into dark, chilling depths. The shock of cold tore into Elissa, snatching her breath away, but she could do nothing as the raging current took hold. Blurs of white, blue and black spiralled past, and she had no idea which way was up. Tossed around like mabari chew toy, the only thing that was real was the pressure around her arm, determined not to let go.

Something scraped her ankle, urging Elissa to fight back. Frantically she groped for the surface, her chest about to burst. For a moment she broke the water, catching a single breath, when all too quickly she was dragged down again. Bubbles escaped her, and she renewed her struggle against the inky tide.

The reassuring hold on her disappeared, and Elissa was thrown into the open once more. She sliced through a water cascade, tearing her sleeve, then belly-flopped hard into a pool some feet below. Agony rippled through her, and stars flew across her vision. Dazed, she fought to rise above the pain, the need for air taking over. No longer at the whim of the current, Elissa clawed upwards, grasping for the brightness above.

She ripped through the water, her chest heaving. The icy rush scalded her throat, but it was like a balm to her lungs. Spluttering, she managed to reach the pool’s edge, holding her head. The river had carried them to an underground reservoir. A crack in the cavern roof allowed light inside, and it glistened off the choppy waves. Elissa glanced around, still coughing. She’d fallen down a short waterfall, narrowly missing the rocks that could have torn her apart as easily as the dragon.

But more importantly, she was alone.

“Leliana?” Elissa shouted, her voice echoing. She swam back to the centre of the pool, eyes wide. “Leliana, where are you?!”

Panic rose in her chest, and she scoured every darkened corner, treading water. There was no sign of the bard.

_Maker, she couldn’t…._

Heart rumbling, Elissa took a deep breath, then dived into the freezing pool. It was so murky, it was almost impossible to tell anything apart. Then a glint of metal caught her eye. Like an arrow she shot into the depths, following the sparkle through the rocks.

At last Elissa found her between two boulders, her cloak snared in their jagged maw.

She wasn’t moving.

Elissa focused all her energy into her limbs, kicking fiercely to reach the bard. The current was stronger here, threatening to drag her away, but she pushed back just as hard. Eventually she reached Leliana, and the movement made Leliana’s eyelids flicker. Her face was whiter than the snow outside.

Jaw clenched, Elissa reached behind her, wrestling with the cloak. It wouldn’t budge. She tried to unfasten the clasp, but she could barely see, and her fingers were too numb. Leliana’s head lopped forward. She was out of air.

Without hesitating, Elissa took Leliana’s cheek and sealed their lips together. Leliana jerked, inhaling deeply. Fire poured through Elissa, a dormant desire brought to life, but she forced herself away before she would give too much. She renewed her struggle against the rocks, channelling every ounce of strength into her arms.

At long last the cloak tore apart in her hands. Elissa threw it aside, and Leliana fell into her arms, motionless. Anchoring the bard against her, Elissa kicked towards the surface. It was much harder with Leliana’s added weight, and she was slowed to a crawl. Her chest started to tighten again, and her vision clouded. Elissa dug deeper, pushing through the burn. The haze thickened, but it only spurred her to swim harder. A little further, just a little further, come on, _come_ _on!_

Just before her lungs would give out, they burst into the open air. Elissa fell into a coughing fit, gasping for every spare breath she could take. Leliana snapped awake, almost making herself sick as she choked and wheezed. She burrowed her fingers into Elissa’s overcoat, terrified of sinking again.

Breathless, Elissa wrapped her arms around the bard, keeping Leliana’s head above the surface. She let her eyes close for a moment, Leliana’s breath reassuring against her cheek. It was getting harder to stay awake now. The waterfall rumbled in the background, and Elissa shook herself, battling fatigue. They had to get out, quickly.

Curling her arm around Leliana, Elissa paddled to the pool’s edge. She grabbed the stone, making to push Leliana out, when the bard screamed.

“Maker, my leg!”

Elissa rapidly released Leliana, swearing. Maker, how was she going to do this?

Teeth gritted, she opted to haul herself out first. If she stalled any longer, they’d both freeze. Once on dry land, she turned and dragged Leliana onto the shore. Elissa’s shoulders cried out, barely able to cope with the extra weight of the water. Leliana hissed, her wounded leg catching, but at least she was free.

Elissa sank to her knees, icy droplets trickling down her face. Leliana slumped beside her, panting, her eyes clenched shut. Every muscle pleaded for respite, and Elissa shook her head, urging herself to keep moving. She took a breath, then stood once more, lifting Leliana against her chest. Leliana whimpered, her left shin at a crooked angle. Blood stained her trousers, and she clung to Elissa, fearful to let even a toe twitch.

“Easy,” Elissa soothed.

She carried Leliana away from the pool, setting her down against a rocky wall. Brushing back her own sodden locks, Elissa then removed the bard’s cracked greave. The wound was instantly apparent, and she whistled through her teeth. A gash had been sliced across the bard’s calf, and her lower shin was bruised and swollen.

“This is not happening,” Elissa muttered.

It wasn’t long before the shivering started, and Leliana wrapped her arms around herself.

“D-Don’t b-bother.” The bard’s voice was hoarse. “We c-can’t…both p-perish…just…l-leave me…”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Elissa shot back. “Wait here. I’ll take a look around.”

She squeezed Leliana’s hand, before rising and taking stock of the cavern. Oddly, something kept her own shivering at bay, even though she was just as soaked. Her Shard burned quietly, flooding her with warmth, and Elissa sighed. It was a wonder the stupid thing had decided to help for a change. Regardless, the heaviness in her limbs remained very real, and she needed to take advantage before it was too late.

Yawning, she made for the passageways, scanning the shadows. Without proper light, however, she couldn’t explore too thoroughly. A voice in her head was mocking—what in the Maker’s name would she find in empty ice caverns anyway—but she refused to give up. There had to be something, _anything_ to stop Leliana freezing to death.

If anything happened to her…

A flicker of light caught Elissa’s eye. Frowning, she abandoned her search and hurried to the last passage. The glow came from another gap in the ceiling, exposing marble walls and a crumbled archway. Elissa chewed her lip, a memory stirred. She had seen such stone before, she was sure of it.

She ventured further, trying to keep hold of her fleeting pulse as she navigated the rubble. Soon she came to a chamber with a broken altar; part of an old shrine, perhaps. Further holes in the roof spared her from darkness, but there was little else to see. Previous cave-ins blocked the two exits, and apart from a rusted axe, nothing else was salvageable.

Snarling, Elissa kicked the ground. Forget this place; she had to look elsewhere. Every second wasted was another second less for Leliana. Think, just _think_ …

As she retreated to the archway, a sudden chirp caught her ear. Elissa hesitated, glancing back, when something fluttered through the gap above. A bundle of brown feathers landed on the altar, and Elissa blinked.

_Not you again?_

The nightingale twittered, as if admonishing Elissa’s thoughts. Then it flitted across the chamber, perching in front of a blocked exit. Elissa scoffed, turning her back to it. The bird had definitely lost its senses. If it wanted to play around, it could do so on its own.

No sooner had she taken another step, however, than the nightingale was at her shoulder. It pecked her cheek, and she hissed.

“Hey!” Elissa shooed it aside, brushing the scratch. “Go away, I don’t have time for this!”

She stormed to the passage once more, but the nightingale didn’t let up. It flew into her face, jabbing her forehead. Elissa threw her hands up, and it returned to the blocked exit, cheeping. This time Elissa paused, her eyes narrowed. She was starting to realise the bird was no ordinary creature. It was far too clever for its own good, and why else would it keep following her?

And when she had literally nothing else to go on…

“Fine, we’ll play it your way,” Elissa mumbled.

Retrieving the axe, she strode to the obstructed corridor. The nightingale took a higher perch, as Elissa started to hack at the blocks. The stone was more fragile than it looked, and soon she had cleared a gap wide enough to slip through. She stepped between the bricks, trying not to think about how long she’d already taken.

When she emerged into the next cave, her jaw hung slack. She was facing an enormous glacier, which towered almost four times higher than the Haven Chantry. And trapped in its iced embrace was a black ship. Its keel tilted downward, suggesting it had toppled from a waterfall before being frozen in mid-plummet. Its sails had long rotted away, but its double masts revealed it as a brig.

Shaking off her stupor, Elissa ran to the wreck. At the very least she would have something to make a fire, and that was a good start. She gripped the axe tighter, quickly tearing into the hull. The wood splintered, thankfully still dry. Once Elissa had carved out enough, she gathered it into her arms. It would take too long to ferry it all back; she would have to bring Leliana here.

Elissa picked a spot nearby and stacked the wood carefully, her hands trembling. It was tempting to set everything ablaze and sort it later, but she knew the fire would just die out. Once it was set, she reached into her pouch, thankful for the flint striker Bethany had bought her all those years ago. She prayed the mage and her sister had found a way to safety.

And just what had become of Lahara…

A tense minute passed as Elissa waited for the wood to catch. Finally the splinters crackled, the flames licking across the timber, and Elissa sighed. Perhaps Dorian’s words about nightingales were starting to ring true.

Sparing a precious few seconds to rest, she made a beeline back to the pool cavern. Maker, please say she hadn’t taken too long.

Leliana remained against the wall, curled up and shivering. Her entire body jerked violently, and she was barely clinging to consciousness.

“Leliana!” Elissa touched her face. Her skin was ice, her pulse thready and weak. Leliana’s eyes were half-closed, and she didn’t acknowledge Elissa’s presence. “Leliana, talk to me!”

“Wasn’t…I didn’t…h-hurt her…she w-won’t…” Leliana mumbled.

Elissa clenched her teeth. She slid her arms under the bard, lifting her up again, then hurried back to the shipwreck. She thought back to Eliza tending such patients in Haven, recalling their cries of delirium before the healer carefully warmed them again. Not all had been caught in time, though, and Elissa bit her lip. She had to bring Leliana’s temperature up before she slipped into a sleep from which she would never wake.

Relief swept through Elissa as she re-entered the glacier cavern; the fire was still going strong. She lay Leliana against the wall beside it, and wiped her brow. The flames would help, but Leliana would not keep warm so long as she was still drenched. Further, her leg needed seeing to, as well.

“Making me…work…for this…aren’t you…” Elissa puffed, stretching her neck. She touched her Shard, and it gave a further pulse of warmth. She would have to draw on all her reserves; there would be time to see to herself later.

Letting out a breath, Elissa returned to her feet. She cast off her sodden scarf and overcoat, her shirt clinging to her like a second skin. Her legs grumbled, but she pushed through the pain, heading towards the ship again. It was her only hope.

She crawled through the hole she’d made in the hull, and the planks creaked in protest. The scent of mould was thick, and Elissa held a hand to her nose. It was tricky to walk, as the starboard side had become the ‘floor’, and she had to climb over the rusted cannons. The lower deck was also brimming with crates and stacks of cloth. Unfortunately the latter was completely threadbare, and the crates only held spoiled grain.

Awkwardly Elissa continued, scaling through a damaged gun port to the next deck. This one held hammocks, and a few were still occupied. Cringing, Elissa approached one, catching sight of a fleshless hand hanging down. Almost nothing had survived; the ship had to have been here for decades.

Then Elissa spotted a chest in the corner. She crouched beside it, discovering its lock was broken. Prying it open, her eyes lit up. Inside were several shirts, some breeches, a fur-lined cloak and a blanket. They were somewhat moth-eaten, but still useable.

Elissa bundled everything into the blanket, then tied it up, slinging it over her shoulder. Returning to the lower deck, she crawled back through the mess, and within moments she was back by the fireside. Once there she had to drop her cargo and sit, closing her eyes. The adrenaline rush was fading, and it was taking what little strength she had with it.

“Okay,” Elissa said, giving herself another vigorous shake. She had to keep occupied.

Forcing her eyes open, she began to hum, spreading the blanket on the ground. Next she shuffled to Leliana and began undressing her. The bard kept thrashing, trying to push Elissa away, but Elissa kept a firm hold. Her delirium was worsening; she had to hurry.

It took longer than Elissa wanted, but eventually Leliana’s upper half was dry and well wrapped in the new shirts. She pulled Leliana into her lap, making to remove her dripping trousers. Leliana groaned, still fighting her, but her movements were much weaker.

“Didn’t…t-touch them…I n-never wrote…s-swear…” Her speech was slurred, her gaze not really there.

Elissa tensed, pulling away the last of Leliana’s sodden clothing. The bard hissed as the threads caught in her open wound. Now the injury was uncovered, Elissa’s eyes widened. The bard’s uncontrolled shivering had twisted her shin out of alignment. She would have to reset the bone. And she had nothing to subdue Leliana’s pain.

“This…this is going to hurt, Leliana,” Elissa said, hoping the bard could still understand her. She swallowed, reaching for some wood to use as a splint. Leliana’s shivering calmed a little, and she pressed herself against Elissa’s chest, drawn to her Shard’s warmth.

Steeling herself, Elissa grasped the bard’s left knee and ankle.

“Maker, forgive me,” she breathed, before she yanked the bone back into place.

Leliana’s shriek was like an arrow through Elissa’s chest, and she immediately cradled the bard in her arms.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry!” she murmured, rocking her gently.

Leliana’s cries fell to pained moans, her face streaked with tears. Elissa simply held her, shaking with guilt. It wasn’t enough to have broken the bard’s heart; she’d had to do this, as well. But she wasn’t done yet. She had to keep going, for Leliana’s sake.

With tremulous hands she tore the bard’s soaked trousers, then used the strips to bind her wound with the splint. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Then Elissa pulled the spare breeches onto her, and finally she was done.

Clumsily she lowered Leliana onto the blanket, then draped the fur cloak over her. A weary sigh escaped, and Elissa reached for her own chest-plate. She had to…had…to…

Her hand fell away and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

“Well, fancy seeing you here, Sixteen.”

A woman’s voice, strangely familiar, made Elissa’s eyes open. Jade sky greeted her, and she yelped, sitting up. An open plain stretched in all directions, bathed in the sickly light that reminded her of the Breach. Her breaths quickened, and Elissa raised a hand to her chest. Where had the caves gone, the shipwreck, _Leliana_ …

Then realisation dawned, and she swallowed.

_Wait, this is the Fade?_

_But how did I…_

Soft chuckling came from her right, and Elissa looked towards the source. It seemed she was not alone. A white-haired woman perched on a crystal throne nearby, resting her chin in her hand. She was adorned in maroon and black, and wore a silver headdress that evoked dragon’s horns. An amused smile spread across her craggy features, and she tilted her head, her amber eyes curious.

Elissa frowned. She glanced at her hand, noticing it didn’t quite have substance. She must have been dreaming.

But how had she ended up here?

“It seems silence remains your strongest shield,” the woman said, breaking the quiet once more. “Not going to stammer about where you are, or who I am?”

Elissa scowled.

“I might consider it.” She rose to her feet, wary. Whoever this was that had brought her across the Veil, she needed to be careful.

“Let me spare you the trouble,” the woman answered. “From the look in your eyes, you know where we are, but I wonder what you make of me?”

She let the question hang, and Elissa felt a memory prickle. She had met that hawkish gaze before, a long time ago. In fact, her sardonic tone reminded her a lot of...

Her mouth went dry.

“Flemeth?”

“It seems your memory is not as broken as it once was,” Flemeth smirked. “Poor Morrigan does not know her own strength sometimes. But then she was never much good with restraint.”

Elissa’s eyes narrowed. This could not have been coincidence. “You know about all that?”

“My eyes have been upon you from the beginning, Sixteen,” Flemeth said. “I witnessed your triumph over the Archdemon, and all that it cost. Then like a phoenix you rose from your ashes, only to have everything burned all over again.” Her gaze fell to the rune on Elissa’s chest. “You were almost restored to what you were, until it was shattered by those ignorant of what they meddled with. And so, here we are.”

Elissa’s lip curled. Even if she still owed Flemeth her life, it was unsettling to think she had been watching so closely.

“What are you after?” she asked, undaunted. “You want my Shard of Andraste?”

Flemeth chortled.

“So, is that what he calls it now?” She seemed more amused than affronted. “Do not have me wrong, Sixteen. Your ‘Shard’ might boast the envy of the gods, but it holds little interest to me.” She sat back in the throne, crossing her legs. “Nonetheless, any blade is useless when wielded incorrectly, and yours has become blunter than it ever has been.” Her eyes sparkled. “So long as you are trapped within yourself, salvation shall remain lost, and everything that has been sacrificed will have been for naught.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Elissa clenched her fist. “And what are you talking about?”

“Your past defines more of you than you realise,” Flemeth said, ignoring the question. “And until you recover your missing fragment, the future cannot be promised to anyone.”

A shiver ran down Elissa’s spine. Hadn’t Zevran spoken those exact same words?

_Did that mean Flemeth was his master?_

_But…_

“I’ve already recovered all of my memories,” Elissa argued. “What more can I do?”

Flemeth rolled her eyes.

“You believe that nonsense about your past and present self meant anything?” she scoffed. “No, Sixteen, you remain incomplete. The reality lay deeper—it was right in front of you—yet still you failed to realise who you _truly_ are. And that endangers us all.”

“So I keep being told,” Elissa grumbled, baring her teeth. “Care to enlighten me, then?”

“I am afraid it does not work like that,” Flemeth chuckled. “External truths are only lies told another way, after all. This you must discover yourself.” She waved her hand. “I could give a nudge in the right direction, if I wished. But it does not suit my mood today.” Her eyes darkened. “There is, however, another matter I can no longer ignore.”

Suddenly she vanished from the throne, appearing in front of Elissa. She touched the rune on Elissa’s chest, and it burst into brilliance. Elissa cried out, a blaze igniting in her chest. Every lick of flame was like a knife in her throat, and she choked. She couldn’t breathe.

Flemeth flashed a Cheshire smile, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. Then she finally snapped her fingers. The fire fell silent, and Elissa dropped to her knees, coughing and shaking. The Shard pulsed, a rival to her own heartbeat, and she held her palm over it.

“What…did you…”

“You can thank me later,” Flemeth said. “But be warned; your friends will not be so lucky. It will not end well for them.”

A flash of light enveloped her, and then Flemeth was gone. In her place drifted a brown feather. It landed on the ground before Elissa, and her breath caught.

“Mine are not the only eyes upon you, Sixteen,” Flemeth’s voice echoed. “Now, better see how your little nightingale is doing. Even the bravest of birds will still die out in the cold.”

* * *

 

The crackle of firewood broke the silence, and Elissa’s brow twitched. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, as if she’d been drugged, and it took all of her willpower to get them to open. Her vision was blurry, dazzled by the firelight, and she snapped them shut again. A dull ache had settled behind her temples, and she winced.

_Flemeth…what have you…_

Her other senses were not nearly as blunted, so she tried to orientate herself. She could tell she was sitting upright, her back pressed against rough stone. The constricting armour around her chest and hips had vanished, and her clothes were suddenly dry, too. The scent of nascent rainfall cooled her nostrils, contrasting the heat against her face. Something was also lying against her chest, tickling her chin with gentle breaths.

Blinking again, Elissa managed to raise a hand and rub away the haze. The glacier, shipwreck and cavern came back into focus, along with a mess of red hair. Leliana was curled in her lap, the fur-cloak and blanket drawn about them both. Colour had returned to the bard’s face, and she held her arms around Elissa’s waist, deep in sleep.

Tears of relief prickled behind Elissa’s eyes, and she pressed her cheek to Leliana’s forehead. It was reassuringly warm, and she let out a breath, pulling her closer.

_Thank the Maker._

She started to stroke Leliana’s hair, pangs of guilt resurfacing. She could only imagine Leliana’s struggle to get her warm when the bard also had a broken leg to deal with. And Elissa was acutely aware it was _her_ reckless actions that had led to this.

“Why do I always end up hurting you?” she murmured, letting her hand drop. Leliana gave a soft whine, missing her touch. Overcome, Elissa couldn’t help herself, and she lightly pressed her lips to the bard’s brow.

At once Leliana’s eyes opened. She lay still for a time, afraid to break the moment, before she shifted herself upright. Their eyes met, but Elissa couldn’t hold her gaze for long. It was too painful. She tried to look away, but Leliana held her in place.

“You only hurt me because I deserve it,” the bard whispered.

A lump rose in Elissa’s throat.

“How…How can you say that?” Her voice quivered, and she clenched her jaw. “I…I’m the one who’s been so selfish, so scared…”

“And I was the one who made you that way,” Leliana answered. A shiver ran through her, and she pulled the cloak closer. “I clung to our memory so badly, I…I was afraid to know anything else.” She ran her thumb over the scar on Elissa’s cheek. “I…I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Not after what I’ve done.” She bit her lip. “But I never, ever wanted to cause you pain, Elissa.”

Her tears started to fall freely, and she choked back a sob. “You…You mean everything to me, and not a day went by that I didn’t curse myself for failing you. For honouring your death over your life. For losing myself. For…” Her breathing hitched. “For losing you _again_ , even though…” At last her voice cracked, and she broke down. “…even though…you’ve been…right here beside me…”

Elissa hushed her, taking the bard’s cheek and brushing her tears aside. Leliana clamped her hand over Elissa’s, nuzzling her fingers.

“I just…I just want to love you, one more time,” Leliana begged. “Whatever you want of me, I…”

Elissa’s lips were against hers before the bard could finish. She would not hide behind words anymore; she would let her heart speak for itself.

Leliana froze, her tears rolling off her cheeks. Then she snapped her eyes shut, returning the kiss just as fiercely. Her taste was infuriatingly addictive, like mead mixed with spice, and Elissa tilted Leliana’s head back, parting her lips, reaching deeper. Every pulse of anger and pain and desire and longing tore through her, merging into a single rush that silenced everything else. All she wanted was Leliana—that scent of cinnamon and new rain, the warmth of her fingertips against her face, her weight crushed against her chest, her heart beating alongside her own—and she didn’t care how much her lungs pleaded for air. This was one ocean she would gladly drown in.

Too soon, Leliana pulled back, panting, flushed. She drew a single breath, then captured Elissa’s lips again, never wanting the moment to end. Her touches were fevered, desperate, and her hands locked behind Elissa’s neck. Each contact left Elissa burning, yearning for every moment lost since her fall from Fort Drakon; every moment she’d wrongly denied them.

Eventually they had to part, gasping. Elissa rested her brow against Leliana’s, catching her breath. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the bard’s sweet, heady taste still overwhelming.

“I still love you, Leliana,” Elissa whispered, trailing a hand through the bard’s hair. “I always have.” Her own tears threatened to spill, and she tried to swallow them back. “I’m so, so sorry. I…I should never have…”

Leliana pressed her finger to Elissa’s lips.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She softly kissed Elissa’s forehead. “Whatever path the Maker chose for us, it still brought us together again.” She caressed Elissa’s cheek, her grey-blue eyes tender. “And I will follow it with you, wherever it may lead.”

“Leliana…”

Elissa pulled the bard into her chest, holding tight. She had been such a blind, blind fool. Clinging to the scars of anger had only tightened the vices around her chest, pouring salt into old wounds that then refused to heal. Yet now Elissa could finally let it all go, and she was starting to realise how much she had been hurting for her love.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Leliana breathed, burying her face into Elissa’s shoulder.

“I missed you too.” Elissa brushed their lips together once more. “And I won’t ever leave you alone again. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also illustrated this scene, enjoy: http://sam241.deviantart.com/art/Forgiveness-677558071


	34. Chapter 34

Lahara groaned, emerging from the shadows of sleep. She was lying on her front, half-submerged in the snow, and it was so very dark. For a moment she didn’t move, wondering if she was still dreaming. Then her right hand began to burn, and she clenched her eyes shut. Ha, she would be so lucky.

Blinking away the ice on her lashes, Lahara slowly rose. Her back and shoulders screamed, and she winced, resting back on her haunches. Her head swam, and she kept very still, not wanting to provoke another dizzy spell. Maker, that landing hadn’t quite panned out as she’d hoped.

“Ugh…” She held a hand to her temple, trying to remember what had happened. After the volcano erupted, the Archdemon had broken free and charged her. An air spell had stopped the fall causing serious injury, and she’d fled into the pass. But then the ground had ruptured, and she’d plummeted into blackness. After that, nothing. She must have lost consciousness.

Shivering, Lahara forced herself to her feet. Her muscles didn’t appreciate it, but she could bear her own weight, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least nothing was broken. Still, she had plenty else to keep her worried. She had to get moving.

Lahara clenched her right hand into a fist, and a surge of warmth escaped her Shard. It flowed through her veins, banishing the chill, but it also made her legs give way. She dropped to her knees, suddenly drained. Her mana reserves were too low.

“Just gets better and better,” she muttered to herself.

Taking some deep breaths, she rose once more, her limbs shaky. It was almost pitch-black, so she raised her right hand. Even a spark of Veilfire was too much, but the rune’s glow gave her enough to see by. She was in a narrow cave, more a tunnel really. Deep scars lined the rock, stretching into darkness. Trickling water danced at the edge of her hearing, and the air was stale and damp. Just like every other cavern in a hundred-mile radius. She could be anywhere.

Sighing, Lahara started walking, holding her arms around herself. Her thoughts turned to Bethany, and she bit her lip. Maker-knew where the mage and the others were along the Pilgrim’s Road, and she had no way to track them down. For all she knew, she might be heading in entirely the opposite direction. But first things first; she had to get back to the surface. Then she could take her bearings and hopefully catch up.

If the lava flows hadn’t already cut her off completely.

The tunnel began to slope upwards. Lahara had to crouch on her hands and knees to scale the frozen stone. Twice she lost her footing, almost sent reeling back to the bottom, but by some miracle she held on, and at last she was at the top. She sank to the ground, catching her breath, her calves stinging. The snow started to look invitingly soft, and her eyelids began to close. How nice it would be to curl up and never open her eyes again…

Abruptly the scent of rotten eggs drifted from ahead, and Lahara’s nose wrinkled. She seized onto it, hoisting herself upright and renewing her steps. She couldn’t give in, not yet. Not until she had seen Bethany—and Elissa, and Hawke, and everyone else—were alright with her own eyes.

The path evened out, and a patch of light spilled from above. Hopeful, Lahara quickened her pace. She paused beneath the pool of brightness, looking up. She was at the base of a glacier, and a fissure in the rock exposed her to the sky. The icy walls towered impossibly high, too sheer to climb, and Lahara gritted her teeth. So close, and yet so far.

Forced to retreat underground, she entered the next cave. The stagnant air returned, making her cough. She hadn’t ventured far when she tripped, staggering into a rock pillar. Growling, she tried to focus her Shard’s aura. It revealed scattered stalagmites of varying sizes, which formed a maze of stone and ice. There was no sign of any exit, either.

Lahara swore, kicking a loose rock. She’d spend an eternity down here going in circles. Maker, what she would do for a vial of fresh lyrium right now...

Someone cleared their throat, and Lahara jumped. Heart galloping, she frantically gazed around the shadows. At first she was only met with darkness, but then heavy steps crunched towards her. Swallowing, Lahara began to back away, fumbling for her concealed knife.

“No need to be so alarmed, my dear.” A male Antivan accent broke the quiet, and Lahara hesitated. It was certainly no Red Templar, yet while she’d heard such a voice before, she couldn’t quite place it.

Before she could come up with an answer, the newcomer stepped closer, into the light of her Shard. He flashed a smile, brushing back his silver-blonde hair. Lahara squinted, still trying to work him out. She kept hold of her knife hilt, just in case.

“Do you remember me?” the Antivan asked. “Such a handsome face is not easily forgotten, I know.”

“Got that right,” Lahara said, as the memory finally clicked. “But what are you doing here, Zevran?”

“Aha, so you do recall my name,” Zevran smirked. Casually he folded his arms, resting against a rock pillar. His brown eyes sparkled. “I merely thought you could use some assistance, after that marvellous display.” He let out a chuckle. “It even puts Antiva City’s firework festival to shame.”

Lahara rubbed the back of her neck. “Eh, I try.”

“Your modesty is as boundless as your power,” Zevran went on. “Truly, your capabilities with your Shard of Andraste are not to be trifled with.”

“Ha, you should see what Elissa can do,” Lahara said.

“She is impressive in her own right, I agree, but that should not take away from your prowess,” Zevran countered. “After all, you managed to perform this after sealing the Breach, as well. Even I could not boast such a feat.”

“Now you’re just trying to get on my good side,” Lahara drawled. “Don’t you have better things to do than make me blush?”

“Ah, there was a time such a thing defined my existence,” Zevran grinned. “But you are right, that is not the sole reason I came to find you.” He gestured to the cavern. “As great as your powers are, they are no use without mana, and the longer you remain here, the more vulnerable you leave yourself.” He paused, standing tall again. “So, allow me to take you back to your comrades, before someone with lesser intentions stumbles upon you.”

“That’s awfully kind,” Lahara said. Her brows narrowed. “What’s in it for you?”

“Must there always be some gain when a favour is freely offered?” Zevran replied. “You are still important, Herald. And I am certain poor Bethany would take comfort in your presence, given her present state.”

Lahara’s heart skipped a beat.

“What…what did you say?”

“You summoned the beast within the earth, and that disturbed the beast above it,” Zevran explained. “A High Dragon fled it lair and attacked, and it has left your friends in disarray. Bethany in particular is not doing very well.”

“No.” Lahara’s hands began to tremble. “You’re making that up!”

“Whether you believe me or not is up to you,” Zevran said, “but will you chance her life for sake of such unnecessary caution?”

“Stop it, I’ve heard enough!” Lahara snapped. Her hand had been forced. “Alright, where is she, how can I…”

“Follow me,” Zevran said, “and I will take you straight to her.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and started into the shadows. Lahara could only stride after him, bile rising in her throat. The fluttering in her chest wouldn’t cease, and she clenched her jaw. This was a cruel, cruel joke. A dragon…a sodding _High Dragon_ , of all things! She clasped her forehead. The volcano was supposed to have protected her friends from pursuit, not make the situation a hundred times worse.

“Maker you must hate me,” Lahara muttered under her breath. She shook her head. It was too late for regret. But there was still time to atone for her mistake, if she hurried.

_Beth, I’m sorry. Please, hold on for me._

Zevran took a confident route, weaving through the rocks like a skilful dancer. How he could keep such a pace in the darkness was beyond Lahara. She could barely keep track anyway, twisting left, then right, then around, then left again. They passed several promising tunnels, but Zevran ignored them. One in particular seemed to leave Lahara gasping, and she held a hand to her throat. It took no genius to know what was waiting down _that_ passage.

Finally the stalagmites started to shrink, before disappearing altogether. A further tunnel appeared, partly blocked with rubble, and they walked into it. The ice disappeared, replaced with mud, and it wasn’t long before the stink of sulphur returned. Lahara’s eyes began to water, and she wiped them with her sleeve.

“This will be the trickiest part,” Zevran announced; the first words he’d spoken in some time. “There is a vent here we cannot avoid. Cover your mouth and nose, and hold your breath. We should be able to make it to the other side.”

“Couldn’t we take a detour?” Lahara asked, the bitterness already souring her tongue.

“If you would rather walk through that tunnel of Corruption, you are welcome to try,” Zevran answered.

Lahara held up her hands.

“Alright, alright, suffocation it is then.”

Tying her scarf around her face, Lahara drew up her collar, then started down the passage again. A red-orange glow began to bathe the rock, growing stronger, and sweat began to trickle down her neck.

At last the next cavern appeared. Lahara’s eyes widened. A narrow bridge of rock stretched to the other side, and several feet below swirled a sea of magma. Or at least that was what Lahara assumed, as it was screened by a dense layer of steam. The heat was scalding against her forehead, and her clothes were soon soaked with sweat.

Zevran nodded at her, his face similarly covered. Lahara retreated slightly, renewing her breath, then strode brusquely across the bridge. Loose stones tumbled from her footfalls, hissing as they were engulfed into the hellfire below. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, her entire body coiled like a spring wound too tight. It was all she could do to keep her balance. It would take but a single careless step, and…

Suddenly the chamber rumbled. Lahara couldn’t hold back her yelp, and the razing fumes burned her mouth. She dropped to her knees, choking, shielding her head with her hands. The ceiling groaned, and a chunk of rock collapsed, sending a splatter of magma upwards.

A hand snatched her shoulder, dragging her to her feet. Zevran’s eyes flashed silver, and he broke into a sprint. Lahara stumbled into a clumsy run, barely able to see, her throat on fire. Another quake sent stones hailing down, and then there was a break in the vapour. The next passage was just ahead, leading upwards into daylight. Lahara’s chest tightened. They were almost out!

Abruptly the bridge shuddered, and Lahara’s hand slipped from Zevran’s. The ground beneath tilted, breaking away from the exit. Snarling, Lahara put on an extra burst of speed, the bridge sinking under her feet. At the last second she jumped, skidding onto the ledge and careening into the passage beyond.

She hit the wall, rocks thundering around her, and it gave way. There wasn’t even time to scream as Lahara plunged into the unknown. Mud and stone blazed past, and she stuck out her hands, trying to slow herself. But there was nothing to hold onto.

Her fall was brought to an abrupt halt when she slammed into a tangle of stalagmites. The breath knocked from her lungs, Lahara lay between the jagged stones, her chest raw and burning. Blood trickled down her face, and her leg was trapped. She couldn’t move. High above a sliver of daylight crept through, taunting her with the promise of escape.

Weakly Lahara raised her arm, reaching for the light.

_I…won’t…let it…end like this…_

A shadow hovered on the ledge above, hesitant. Then the chamber shook, causing more debris to fall, and Lahara caught their fleeting steps. Tears welled in her eyes, and her hand dropped.

_Zevran, wait!_

_No, you can’t…_

The ceiling groaned, unable to withstand the tremors. A cascade of stalactites snapped from the fissure, smashing into the wall beside Lahara. They tore an opening into the vent chamber, and a plume of noxious steam burst through. Lahara had no choice but to inhale. Her throat screamed; it was like swallowing a sword straight from the forge. She struggled to free herself, but her leg wouldn’t budge.

The blackness started to close in, and Lahara felt herself slipping.

_No…help…_

_…someone…please…_

* * *

**_Someone please help me!_ **

Elissa jolted awake, gasping. Disorientated, she blinked, Lahara’s scream still ringing in her head. Her Shard glowed, and she swallowed.

Had she been dreaming?

She sat forward and glanced around, much to the protest of the bard in her lap. Leliana squirmed, trying to get comfortable again. Elissa ignored her, scouring the shipwreck, but nothing seemed to have changed. Yet she could have sworn the Herald had cried out.

**_Help me!_ **

Elissa flinched, the rune on her chest buzzing. Lahara’s voice was crystal clear, as if she were right beside her. But that was impossible; there was no sign of her.

“Lara?” Elissa whispered. She held her breath, waiting for any response. For a while she was met with silence, bar the crackle of the fire and Leliana’s breathing. She scowled, rubbing her eyes. Maybe she had imagined it.

Then her Shard flared once more, and Lahara’s voice broke through.

**_Elissa, is that you? Can you hear me?!_ **

Elissa’s eyes widened. There was no mistaking it this time.

“Lara, yes, it’s me!” Elissa called. She strained to listen again. The seconds ticked by, turning to minutes, but then Lahara finally answered.

**_Please, get me out of here!_ **

“But _where_ are you?”

Another long pause.

**_I’m…right…_ **

The rest of Lahara’s words fell away, and the rune on Elissa’s chest fell silent. Elissa growled, snatching for the threads of connection, but they disappeared. She sighed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. If her Shard had caught Lahara’s cry, then the Herald couldn’t have been far. She had to find her.

Biting back a yawn, Elissa pulled off the blanket. She draped it onto the ground, then put her arms around Leliana, making to lie her down. The bard’s face crumpled, and she whined, holding tighter.

“What’s matter,” Leliana mumbled, groggy.

“Lara’s in trouble,” Elissa said. “I need to look for her.”

Leliana’s brow creased, and she opened an eye.

“How do you know she’s…”

“My Shard,” Elissa insisted. “Go back to sleep, you’ll be safe enough here.”

Leliana sighed. She pulled away, making to sit on her own.

“I don’t think I could close my eyes without knowing where you are.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Elissa took the bard’s hand, squeezing gently. “Lara can’t be far, otherwise I wouldn’t have heard her. We can’t just leave her.”

“Of course not,” Leliana said. “But you must take care of yourself, as well.” She leant closer, tenderly brushing her lips against Elissa’s. “Be swift, and Maker protect you.”

Elissa smiled, pulling Leliana into an embrace. Eventually she withdrew, and helped Leliana shuffle onto the blanket. The cold was instantly noticeable, and Elissa shivered, already missing the bard’s warmth.

Leliana pulled the cloak over herself, hunching closer to the flames. Elissa rose, stretching her legs, then grabbed her now-dry overcoat. She also took the axe, slipping it into her belt, before she approached the shipwreck again. The rune on her chest prickled, and she pressed her palm over it. Even if Lahara was nearby, that was still a lot of ground to cover. And while the Herald knew how to track with her Shard, Elissa had never had much luck doing the same.

But maybe this time…

Elissa closed her eyes, focusing on her Shard. It began to pulse, and she slowed her breathing so it would match her heartbeat. Each ripple spread through her, following the tension of her muscles, the chill air against her skin, the rush of blood through her veins. Her awareness stretched further, seeping into the ice. Droplets bound together, frozen in a single moment. Then it glanced off the shipwreck—weathered wood and rusted metal, trapped forever in their final voyage. Next came stone; cold and hard and ancient, unmoved for centuries.

Then solid rock became liquid hot, a raging tide of unbridled flame. The fires chomped from the belly of the earth, spewing poisonous breath as it clawed for release. It was also hiding something; something living and breathing, unlike the heartless stone. Elissa gritted her teeth, pushing deeper, listening harder.

And then, in the centre of the boiling ocean, she felt it; an answering pulse to her own. But it was so weak; frightened, tired, hurting.

_Lara!_

The present came rushing back, and Elissa hurried to the edge of the glacier. The images remained vivid in her mind, like a living map guiding her steps. She clasped the axe, using it to scale the ice. Soon she came to a low-roofed passage, leading east. Elissa ran her hands over the walls, the rune’s light keeping her from total darkness. The echo of Lahara’s Shard was faint, but unmistakable, and it was coming from this direction.

The path seemed to stretch forever, twisting and turning in downward spiral. Then rushing water caught Elissa’s ear, growing louder. She entered the next cavern, into brightness. Light spilled from above, glistening off a river that disappeared into an inlet further downstream. On her right stood several more passages, each leading into blackness.

Elissa started forward again, making for the tunnel that overlooked the river. Her Shard tingled, encouraging. She’d barely taken a few steps inside, however, when the temperature sharply rose. Steaming vapours drifted through, carrying the sulphur stench, and Elissa raised her scarf to protect herself.

Soon the harsh glow of boiling rock danced off the walls, and Elissa brushed the sweat from her brow. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the chamber. She looked around, peering through the steam. A collapsed rock bridge was sinking into the magma, and another opening lay to her right, where the gas was escaping. Another prickle ran through her Shard, and Elissa clenched her fist. That was where she needed to go.

She retreated from the vent, shaking sweat from her hair and taking a fresh breath. There was enough debris on the ground to reach the opening, but she would have to be quick.

Steeling herself, Elissa bolted into the vapours. The heat was almost unbearable, scathing her face, but then she was through to the other side. The steam billowed upwards, seeking release through the crevice above. It allowed Elissa to breathe the cooler air, and she studied her surroundings. This cave’s floor was far, far below, ending in a pit of blackness. A bracket of rock spanned the wall, barely wide enough to stand on. And just below its north edge lay a crumpled figure, her auburn hair standing out like a beacon.

“Lara!” Elissa called. Lahara didn’t respond. Grimacing, Elissa pressed herself against the wall, side-stepping along the rim.

She dropped to Lahara’s side, her pulse thrumming in her ears. The Herald was still breathing, but it was raspy and bubbling, like an old woman in the throes of death. How much vapour had she been forced to inhale…

“Lara, I’m here,” Elissa said. She brought forth her axe again, breaking the rock that trapped the Herald’s leg. Once freed, Elissa rolled Lahara onto her back, tearing away her scarf. The Herald coughed, her mouth and lips raw, but even then she managed the faintest of smiles.

**_Thank…the Maker!_ **

“Hold on,” Elissa said.

Carefully she propped Lahara to a sitting position, praying she hadn’t broken anything. The Herald didn’t protest too much, and Elissa turned, draping her onto her back. Lahara tensed her arms, managing a feeble grip around Elissa’s shoulders. It would have to do.

Keeping her axe in hand, Elissa stood. Her Shard flickered, renewing her resolve, and she climbed back to the upper ledge. Edging back was much slower, and Elissa had to anchor herself with the axe to stop them falling.

At last they reached the opening again, and Elissa hesitated.

“Hold your breath.” She paused, giving Lahara time to comply, then charged back inside the chamber. Her feet tore across the fallen rock, and soon she burst into the tunnel again. The searing heat fell behind, replaced with a cooling breeze, and then the river appeared. Lahara spluttered, struggling to get the air inside. Elissa clenched her jaw, making a beeline for the glacier cavern.

It was not a moment too soon when the broken masts came in sight once more. Relief flooded through Elissa, and she jumped straight onto the brig. She skidded down the smooth keel, landing heavily on the gravel below. Her knees jarred, and Lahara groaned.

“You found her!” Leliana gasped. “Maker, what happened?”

“She fell close to a vent,” Elissa said, bringing the Herald to the fireside. “She must have breathed in a lot of the toxic vapour.”

Nodding, Leliana eased herself back, then helped lie Lahara onto the blanket. Almost at once the Herald started choking, so Elissa propped her upright against the wall. Lahara let out a forceful cough, straining to clear her throat. Elissa rubbed her back, Lahara’s chest rattling against her palm. Now she could also see the burns on Lahara’s mouth and lips, and she inwardly winced.

“Maker, she needs a healer,” Elissa murmured, shaking her head. “You both do.”

“Then we find one.” Leliana turned aside, bringing forth an old parchment. Elissa raised a brow.

“What’s that?”

“This was folded inside one of the shirts you gave me.” Leliana carefully opened it, revealing the faded inks of a map. “This must have been the course the ship’s crew were following.” She pointed to a mark at the top. “There is an underground river that leads north to some kind of fortress. From there we could take a trade road to Halamshiral. It’s our only hope.”

Elissa bit her lip. It was not ideal; there was no guarantee the river followed the same route, and even then it would take days, perhaps weeks to get to the border of Orlais. That was time Leliana and Lahara did not have. Eliza was bound to be closer, but they had no way of knowing where she was, or even if she had survived the dragon attack.

**_Better listen to the spymaster, Hero._ **

Blinking, Elissa turned to Lahara. The Herald’s eyes were still closed, but her smile remained.

**_I can still hear perfectly fine, you know._ **

“We have to try,” Leliana added, catching on to Elissa’s unease. She touched Elissa’s cheek. “I will not believe the Maker let us be together again, only to lose each other now.”

Elissa let out a breath, resting her fingers against Leliana’s. The bard was right; she could not give up. Not when they had come so far, and when she remained their only hope for survival.

“Right.” Elissa braced her fist over her Shard. “Let me check the ship again, and we’ll take it from there.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this was supposed to be the last chapter but it just kept going, and going, so I’ve split it. Hopefully not as long to wait for the next one though…

The quiet gush and Lahara’s croaky breathing were Elissa’s only comforts as she guided their raft downstream. It was little more than several planks lashed together, but it had endured the current surprisingly well. Leliana and Lahara were huddled in the centre, managing a fitful sleep between them. Every so often the Herald would fall into a coughing fit, leaving her gagging and rasping, and Elissa cringed, wishing she could do more to help. Leliana was hardly better, wincing at even the tiniest movement. Yet whenever she caught Elissa watching, she merely smiled.

 _And here I am with barely a scratch_.

Elissa let out a breath, taking a swig from her water skin. It seemed she would not be free of her guilt so easily. How much had she already dragged Leliana through, and still the bard bore it all, almost proudly. But Leliana and Lahara could only keep going for so long. Their injuries were beyond Elissa, and she needed to get them healed as quickly as possible. No matter how bitter she still felt.

**_Hey, lighten up._ **

Elissa jumped, almost dropping her oar. Pulse bounding, she glared at Lahara, who had awoken. The Herald gave a rattling cough, then grinned. The burns in her mouth prevented her from speaking, but her Shard allowed her to communicate.

“Don’t tell me you can read my thoughts now?” Elissa asked.

 ** _Heh, I wish_** , Lahara answered. **_Your face says it all, really. But come on, it could be worse. At least you’re giving us a fighting chance._**

Elissa sighed. “Maybe.”

 ** _Look, this whole disaster is my fault, and it shouldn’t fall on your shoulders_**. Lahara’s gaze fell. **_I might as well have done Corypheus’s work for him, the ways things are now._**

“You were forced into a corner,” Elissa answered. “Corypheus would’ve caught us with his Archdemon otherwise, and there was no place to hide.”

 ** _I’m not so sure._** Lahara’s mismatched eyes grew distant, and she held her chest. **_Beth’s hurt, isn’t she? And Leliana, Cassandra, and Maker-knows who else._** Another cough tore through her, and she winced. **_Maybe Zevran was right to abandon me._**

“No.” Elissa clenched her jaw. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s Corypheus. And I don’t know what Zevran was thinking, but he’s going to answer for that.” She paused, dipping her oar into the water again. “Besides, you didn’t believe we’d walk away completely unscathed, did you?”

Lahara didn’t reply, but Elissa knew her words had struck. It was a reality she’d learned too well during the Blight; one she’d almost forgotten herself, and needed to heed once more. Even with the best laid plans, nothing was ever guaranteed. And the sooner they both accepted that, the better.

The river curved, frothing as it started a slow descent. Elissa twisted her oar, keeping the raft centred. She shook her head, still reeling from Lahara’s story. It couldn’t have been coincidence that the Herald and Zevran had crossed paths. Yet whichever way she looked at it, his actions made no sense. If he had wanted to kill Lahara, he could have assassinated her the moment they met. Yet if he had truly desired to help, there was no reason he couldn’t have rescued her, either.

So why had he suddenly left…

The current swirled, and the raft jarred against the stones. Leliana cried out, jolted awake. Elissa swore, anchoring her oar into the water. They came to a dead halt, and she struggled against the eddies. They had grown stronger, and were about to send them tearing through a series of rapids.

Yet it was what lay beyond that made Elissa gawk. An opening had appeared, leading to daylight, but it was also where the river plunged into emptiness.

They’d reached the end.

Sighing, Elissa rose to her feet. They would make no more progress by water—it was time to find another route. Her balance swayed, and she dug her oar deeper, hauling the raft towards the shore. The planks grazed the shallows, and she jumped off, the icy coolness licking her ankles. A firm tug freed the raft from the snarling current, and soon they were grounded.

Elissa discarded the oar, then stepped back onto the worn wood. Leliana had her arms around herself, holding her leg rigid. Gently, Elissa hoisted the bard into her arms, before carrying her towards the rocks. Leliana pressed closer, trembling. Elissa bit her lip. She was getting worse.

Carefully she lay Leliana down, giving her a comforting squeeze, then returned for Lahara. The raft came last—it would be good for firewood, at least—and finally Elissa sank to the ground between them. Her shoulders ached, and she rubbed her stiff neck. If this kept up, it wouldn’t be long before she would need a healer’s attention herself.

Leliana took a deep breath, tentatively stretching her broken leg. Elissa had only redressed it a few hours ago, but the strips of fabric were already bloodied. The river had been too rough.

“Sorry,” Elissa murmured, clasping the bard’s hand.

“It can’t be helped.” Leliana gripped Elissa’s palm tighter. “Don’t worry about me. You need to focus.”

Elissa could only nod. As much as it tore her to see Leliana like this, there was not much else she could do. And with every moment slipping between her fingers, wallowing in remorse was not going to save her. But Maker be damned, this wasn’t fair.

She softly kissed Leliana’s forehead, then stood up.

“Rest awhile. I’ll look around.”

She handed over her water skin, then walked back to the river’s edge. Pebbles rattled under her boots, and the cascade roared louder as she neared the opening. A chill breeze caught her, refreshing after so long shut underground. Savouring the fresh air, Elissa climbed the remaining rapids, and then she was at the top of the falls.

The open sky was a balm to her eyes, and she watched the colourful sunset. The jagged peaks of the Frostbacks surrounded her, bathed in the remains of the ash cloud. Below that, a path cut northwards to some kind of bridge, although the mountains screened whatever lay beyond. The waterfall rumbled beneath her, rolling off several boulders before it fed the river again. It was not especially high, but even without her injured charges it would be difficult to descend.

A yawn escaped Elissa, and she turned back. That mountain path looked promising, although reaching it would be something else. It had to be several miles away, and through unstable terrain as well. But Elissa refused to be defeated, not when they were so close. There had to be another way down.

She was still mulling ideas by the time she returned to the others. Leliana had started picking apart the raft, bundling the planks to make a fire. Lahara sat against a broad stalagmite, perfectly still, her hands pressed against her forehead. Her Shard flickered, and the rune on Elissa’s chest tingled. The Herald was up to something.

Breaking her gaze, Elissa sat beside Leliana, helping her stack the wood. The bard let her take over, and nestled against her shoulder. A pang ran through Elissa, and she pulled Leliana closer, wishing she could ease her pain.

“There’s a path outside, but it’s quite far,” Elissa said, hoping to distract her. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to reach it.”

Leliana sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go on alone.” She closed her eyes. “You’ll be faster, and can bring help to us.”

Elissa tensed. The thought had crossed her mind, but she was unwilling to go through with it. Too much could go wrong. She had no weapon to defend herself, and Maker-knew how long it would take before she’d find help— _if_ she’d find help. And if either Leliana or Lahara took a sudden turn for the worse…

A hacking cough gripped Lahara. Her hands dropped to her lap, and the bubbling in her throat worsened. She spat out a mouthful of blood, grimacing. It wasn’t the first time, but Elissa’s eyes widened nonetheless.

 ** _Don’t sweat it._** Lahara wrapped her arms around herself, the rune on her hand still glowing. **_It’s nothing._**

“That didn’t look like nothing.” Elissa’s eyes narrowed. “What were you trying to do?”

 ** _I said it was nothing,_** Lahara answered. **_Didn’t work, anyway. Now just drop it, okay?_**

The Herald lay against the rocks again, pulling her cloak over and closing her eyes. Elissa watched her for a moment, wary. But when neither Shard stirred again, she sighed. Whatever Lahara had been attempting, she seemed to have given up.

“You should rest as well.” Leliana wrapped her arm around Elissa. “You’ve not slept since Maker-knows when.”

“I can’t afford to sit around.” Elissa rubbed her eyes, biting back the inevitable yawn that just had to have been provoked. “I’ll be fine, just…”

“Allowing some time to yourself will do no harm,” Leliana shot back. “You’re just as tired as we are, and that path is not going anywhere.”

“But…”

“Elissa, even if you left now, you would not get far before nightfall. And then what?” Leliana’s tone was firm. “Our chance will come tomorrow.”

Her grey-blue eyes were fierce, and Elissa glanced aside, defeated. Much as it left a bad taste, perhaps it would be best to conserve her strength. Especially when she still had to figure out a way to traverse the waterfall.

“Alright.” Elissa rested against Leliana, a sigh escaping her. “But I wish I didn’t have to ask so much of you.”

“You are the one forced to shoulder our burdens once again.” Leliana took Elissa’s hand, bringing it to her chest. “If not for you, we would never have come this far.”

Elissa inwardly winced. _If not for me, you wouldn’t even be in this position._

“How do you find such strength,” she murmured.

“I have no reason to be afraid.” Leliana raised her head, and briefly united their lips. “Because you are here with me.”

Elissa’s gaze softened, and she drew Leliana close. The bard trembled slightly, but she managed a smile, closing her eyes. They remained in stillness together, Elissa watching the rise and fall of her chest. Her heart burned, and she pressed her brow to Leliana’s, suddenly craving her warmth. After all their bitter words and angered cries, Leliana _still_ held such faith in her. Even when Elissa had come so close to shattering it forever, when so much was stacked against them and every promise was a fragment on the wind. Her resolve remained unshaken…just like when they had first met.

She was truly more than Elissa deserved.

“I won’t stop fighting, Leliana,” Elissa whispered, trailing a finger through the bard’s fiery locks. “Whatever it takes, I’ll get us all home, and we can be together again. I swear it.”

* * *

A soft whimper caught the edge of Elissa’s hearing, and she opened a bleary eye. Sleep had not come easily, and she was certain her eyes had only closed a short while ago. The fire had reduced to embers, but brilliant moonlight spilled through the cavern opening. Slowly, the fog around her thoughts faded, and that was when she realised her arms were empty. She had been left lying against cold stone, alone.

Eyes wide, Elissa bolted upright. She scoured the darkness, tightness consuming her. Lahara remained bundled in her cloak, snoring quietly, and just beside her lay Leliana. Yet it did anything but bring relief. Leliana was wrapped in the blanket, her face glistening as she fought to contain her shivering.

Heart rumbling, Elissa sprinted towards her. She touched Leliana’s forehead; she was burning up.

_Maker, why didn’t she wake her?!_

“Leliana!” Elissa shook her, and Leliana clenched her eyes tighter.

“‘M fine,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Just…a fever…will pass…didn’t want…to disturb…”

Elissa snarled, half-wanting to slap the bard senseless.

_The stupid, stupid…!_

Biting back her anger, she hitched up the blanket. Her mouth went dry. The dressing on Leliana’s leg was soaked through. Elissa tore away the makeshift bandages, tilting the bard’s calf towards the light. Even in the semi-darkness, the wound’s edges were obviously angry, and there was no mistaking the foul smell of pus.

All the breath seemed to lock in Elissa’s chest, and she could only stare in horror. This couldn’t be…she’d been _fine…_ it was too soon for an infection to take hold…

_How long had they been drifting down the river?_

“How…How bad…” Leliana whispered.

Elissa’s jaw tensed.

“We’re leaving. Now.” She let the blanket drop, then reached for Lahara. She pulled back the Herald’s cloak, and Lahara blinked. “Lara, wake up. It’s time to go.”

Choking out another cough, Lahara opened her eyes. Her face crumpled.

 ** _Elissa, you can’t still be…_** Her gaze fell to Leliana, and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets. **_Andraste’s grace, how long was she keeping that quiet?!_**

“Long enough she’s going to get a beating when this is through,” Elissa muttered.

“You…can’t…take me…” Leliana protested. “Just…leave…bring back…”

Another rigor took her, and she gasped, clutching her arms around herself.

Elissa’s brows narrowed. “You don’t get a say in this anymore.”

She ripped off her overcoat and pulled off her shirt. The air was biting, sending goose bumps across her skin, but she had no choice. Tearing the sleeves, she grabbed the water skin and set to work. Leliana bit her lip, refusing to cry out as Elissa washed and redressed the wound. For whatever good it would do.

Once done, Elissa wrapped the blanket around the bard. Then she redonned her coat, slinging the water skin against her hip. Finally she crouched in front of Lahara, bracing her shoulders.

“Climb on and hold tight,” Elissa ordered. “It’s going to be a long walk.”

 ** _You can’t be serious?_** Lahara spluttered. **_There’s no way you can carry the two of us! I’m not nearly so bad, just take Leliana and…_**

Elissa didn’t let her finish, grabbing the Herald’s wrists and pulling her across her back. Lahara had barely time to react as Elissa slid her arms under Leliana. Then she was on her feet, supporting the bard against her chest, the Herald clinging on for dear life.

“Elissa,” Leliana croaked, feebly trying to resist. “Please…”

“What did I just say?” Elissa growled, tensing her grip. “We’re out of time.”

_And I’m not going to lose you._

Taking a steeling breath, Elissa set out for the waterfall. Lahara anchored her arms tighter, and Elissa ignored the protests of her muscles. Her pulse burned in her ears, and she set her pace against it. Only one thing mattered now, and nothing was going to drag her away.

Lahara coughed, and Elissa could hear her sigh in her thoughts.

 ** _I still don’t think this is a good idea,_** the Herald grumbled. **_But if you’re really going through with this, let me give you a hand._**

She pressed her right hand against Elissa’s Shard, and the two runes burst into life. A flood of warmth ran through Elissa, making her heart skip a beat, and she had to catch her breath. All of a sudden her aches fell away, and the weight of her charges were like nothing. Lahara shivered, barely able to keep her grip, and Elissa gasped.

“Lara! What are you…”

 ** _Get…going…already…_** The echo of Lahara’s thoughts was weak. **_Before…we all…_**

That was all she could manage, and her head flopped onto Elissa’s shoulder. Her wheezes vibrated in Elissa’s ears, and she clenched her teeth. Leliana continued to tremble, too weak to cry out, her ragged breaths the only sign she was holding on.

“Maker, I won’t let you have them,” Elissa snarled, forcing herself into a jog.

_Because I promised…_

_I promised her, damn it!_

* * *

The rays of dawn cut through the hazy mist, and Elissa had to blink, dazzled after so long chasing moon trails. Her whole body was a chorus of agony, yet she fought through, knowing that if she stopped she would never move again. Neither Lahara nor Leliana stirred, their tremulous breaths competing with one another, and Elissa’s only reassurance they were still with her.

Her eyes threatened to close for the umpteenth time, and she shook her head vigorously. The night had seemed endless, a gruelling struggle against shadow and ice as she’d hiked through paths not tread for centuries. An impossible challenge, and one Elissa would have certainly failed without her Shard. The rune still pulsed, glowing beneath her overcoat, but even with Lahara’s added strength, its warmth was fading. She would not last much longer.

But her efforts had paid off, as at long last that mysterious bridge was mere steps away. Now Elissa could also see the dark silhouette that loomed beyond it, and her breath caught. Sheer walls and brooding turrets stood apart from the mountains, basking beneath the pale fog. It had to be the fortress from the map.

The sight renewed her resolve, and she stepped up her pace. Pins and needles shot into her legs, and she stumbled, hissing. At the same moment, her Shard went cold, and it was like daggers ripping through her. She could barely breathe.

_No, not now!_

Bile in her throat, Elissa tried to move her legs once more. Another lancing pain broke out, and she fell to her knees, hitting the snow. Lahara’s grip loosened, provoking a barking cough that stole what little breath she had left. Leliana let out a pained moan, almost sliding from Elissa’s hold. The darkness started to close in, and Elissa felt tears prickle.

_No, no…_

_I can’t…_

_I won’t…_

_Leliana, I’m…I…_

_Maker, don’t take her from me!_

A biting wind was her only answer, scathing against her face. But then something else came with it; a ringing rattle, like chains being drawn. Or so her mind wished.

“Maker’s breath, it _really_ is them!”

A familiar voice broke the silence, and Elissa froze.

It couldn’t be…

_Hawke?_

“Cassandra, Alistair, Beth, come quick!”

Elissa begged herself to open her eyes, but she no longer had the strength. Footsteps rushed, and suddenly Lahara’s weight vanished from her shoulders. Then Leliana was taken from her, and she weakly tried to pull her back.

“No,” Elissa croaked. “Don’t…”

“Elissa, it’s okay, it’s us!” Alistair’s arm came around her, his voice soothing. He touched Elissa’s cheek, his palm wonderfully warm. “Maker, how is she still even conscious? She’s frozen solid!”

“Get them into Skyhold, now!” Cassandra barked.

Strong arms tucked around Elissa, and she was lifted off the ground. Helpless, Elissa could only listen, wondering if this was all a fevered dream.

“I knew they’d find us,” Bethany sniffed, biting back a sob. “I knew we’d have them back!”

“Only you could make an entrance like this, eh Elissa?” Alistair tried to be jovial, but his heart wasn’t in it. He swallowed. “Thank the Maker. I…the thought of losing you like that again…”

“Please.” Elissa could barely speak above her own breath. “Leliana…infected…can’t…”

“It’s alright,” Alistair murmured. “You’ve done enough. We’ll take over from here.”

The crunch of rustling snow took over, but even that started to slip away. The darkness beckoned, promising relief, yet Elissa still resisted. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. She must have passed out, she could be stranded anywhere! She couldn’t let them die!

Adrenaline sparked, enough for her muscles to manage a final protest. She clawed at Alistair, desperate to break his hold. She couldn’t…not Leliana…not when they were finally…

Something sharp pricked her shoulder, and her arms fell limp.

“Sorry Elissa, but this is for your own good.” Hawke’s voice again. “Sleep. You’ll be just fine when you wake up.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, at last. It was a long journey, wasn’t it? Warning for adult themes at the end!

The scent of wood-smoke and elfroot hung heavy, enough to irritate Elissa’s nose. She sneezed, and the rush of air snapped her into wakefulness. Soft pillows cushioned her head, although they did little to ease the ache behind her temples. Grimacing, her eyes flickered open. Unshed tears misted her vision, and she made to wipe them away. A host of blankets fought back, and her chest went tight. She couldn’t breathe.

In panic she wrestled with the layers, almost tearing them apart, and finally threw them aside. Snatching back her breath, she managed to sit, dangling her legs over the side of the cot. A cold sweat pooled at her brow, and she held her chest, her heart flustered. Those memories from her accident still haunted, even now. She couldn’t face being stuck in bed. But she wasn’t back in Viren’s home, too paralysed to move. She was…

Where was she?

Rubbing her shoulder, Elissa glanced around. She was in an unfamiliar room, facing a well-stoked hearth. The walls were made of an unusual stone, and a wooden staircase towered through the middle. A grotty window revealed that night had fallen once more, and Elissa held the back of her neck. She must have been asleep for a while.

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she caught another patient in the cot beside her. Lahara’s auburn locks were instantly recognisable, and relief swelled through Elissa. The Herald was sleeping, propped upright with a strange mask covering her mouth and nose. The latter glowed with lyrium, and sparkled in time with her breathing, which was much calmer. Bethany was also curled up against her shoulder, lost to her dreams. Elissa’s gaze softened.

_Thank the Maker, you’re okay._

Swallowing, she scanned the remaining cots. They were all empty, although one seemed to have been used recently. The blankets were crumpled, and patches of old blood soiled the sheets. Elissa’s stomach knotted.

_Leliana._

The worst filled her thoughts, and she held her head in her hands. The trembling wouldn’t stop, and she wanted to be sick. No, Leliana wouldn’t…she _couldn’t_ …

She would not believe it unless she’d seen with her own eyes that…

A low-pitched murmur broke the quiet. It was oddly soothing, and Elissa found herself listening. Her heartbeat was deafening, threatening to drown it out, but then words came, soaring higher and exposing its true melody.

Someone was singing.

Elissa let her hands drop, a smile spreading across her lips. The song washed over her, melting the icy grip around her chest, and she strained to catch every note. As faint as it was, she would know that voice anywhere. And it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

Curiosity overcame her, and she made to stand. At once the pins and needles returned, numbing her legs, and she fell back to the cot. The frame squeaked, and Elissa sighed, pressing a hand to her back. Slowly, now.

Licking her lips, she gripped the cot again and stretched her legs. Gradually the blood began flowing again, taking the tingling with it, and she was able to rise.

With the feeling back, Elissa took her overcoat from her bedside and forced herself to walk. Now it was her blistered feet’s turn to protest, so she stepped lightly. The floor was freezing against her bare soles, but she was too drawn to the hypnotic chant to care. It seemed to be coming from the floor above.

The staircase creaked and groaned, and she eventually made it to the landing. Crates were stacked against the walls, and a chilly breeze came from a doorway on her left. Now she was close enough to recognise the song; Leliana had performed it after they had rescued the mages during the Blight. And as she wandered through into the night air, she found the bard indeed singing.

Leliana sat on the lone bench, her hands in her lap. Her eyes were closed, engrossed in the notes that escaped her lips. Clean dressings covered her injured calf, and a pair of makeshift crutches rested against the balcony railing. Only a lace shirt and scarf protected her from the wind, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Elissa paused at the threshold, the bard’s voice mesmerizing. Just as she had been entranced all those years ago, so she was enraptured now.

_I don’t ever want to forget this time._

At last, the song drew to a close. Leliana let her final note linger, until she ran out of breath. She bowed her head, her palms clasped in prayer. It wasn’t long however before she was shivering, but she made no motion to leave.

Sighing, Elissa strode forward. She pulled off her overcoat, then draped it around the bard’s shoulders. Leliana tensed, snapping her head around. Her grey-blue eyes softened, and she gave a grateful smile, snuggling into the warmth. Elissa climbed over to sit beside her, pulling her into her chest.

“You shouldn’t be out in the cold,” she said.

Leliana let out a breath, pressing closer.

“I just wanted to see the stars,” she answered. “I…truly thought I might never see them again.” She leant into Elissa’s embrace, her eyes closing. “It is thanks to you I have this moment. I owe you everything.”

An ache prickled in Elissa’s chest, and she looked away.

“What do you owe me?” Her voice was bitter. “All the angered words I spat at you; a wound that almost cost your life, that would have never have happened if…”

Leliana pressed her finger against Elissa’s lips.

“You dare say that, after all you’ve done?” Her grey-blue eyes narrowed. “You achieved the impossible, Elissa. No-one could have walked such a distance in one night, let alone carrying the two of us as well. If not for you, Lara and I would be dead.” She held Elissa’s cheek, bringing their brows together. “You saved me, as I never could that day.” A shaky breath escaped her. “I…I always fail you when you need me…”

Elissa clasped her palm over the bard’s.

“No,” she said. “You are stronger than I could ever be, Leliana. You always kept me going when the darkness became too much, and you still do, even when faced with your own.” She raked her fingers through the bard’s hair, so soft and silken. “You say you owe me everything, when my debt to you will forever be greater.”

Leliana found herself smiling. She leant closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Then I must start collecting payment, no?”

She closed the distance between their lips. Elissa shut her eyes, giving in to her feather-light touch. One she could have lost forever. Her arms locked around the bard, and she pushed back against her, deepening their kiss. All she knew was Leliana’s warmth, her cinnamon scent, her beautiful sweet taste, and she wanted nothing else.

Eventually though the cold seeped deeper, and Elissa’s back started to ache. She pulled away, shivering. She had to get them back inside.

Carefully, she tucked her arms around Leliana. The bard clung to Elissa’s neck, drawing herself against her chest. Then Elissa stood up, Leliana’s weight so comfortable and familiar. The movement jarred, and Leliana hissed, tensing her injured leg.

“It’s alright,” Elissa soothed. “I’ve got you.”

_And I’m never letting go._

She retreated from the balcony, the pains in her feet nothing anymore. She made to return down the stairs, but Leliana shook her head. Instead she took Elissa’s cheek, stealing another kiss. Her breath was heated, her lips soft, and Elissa held her tighter, savouring every moment of her rich, meady taste. Too soon, the bard withdrew. Her grey-blue eyes burned with longing, stirring a hunger Elissa never thought she would feel after so long.

“I want to make you mine again,” Leliana whispered, twirling her fingers in Elissa’s hair. Her tone sent tingles down Elissa’s spine. She wanted it, too.

“I…We need to find somewhere,” Elissa murmured.

Leliana nodded. She curled against Elissa’s neck, but did not let up on her touches. Her fingertips roamed, loosening Elissa’s collar, and it was all Elissa could do to focus as she looked around the landing. There didn’t seem to be any other rooms, but the stairs continued upwards. The upper floors were bound to have remained untouched.

Moonlight spilled through the inlets in the wall, guiding Elissa’s path as she climbed. Finally they reached the uppermost floor; more an attic, really. It had a curved ceiling, and was stacked with more crates and boxes. A narrow alcove was tucked in the corner. Beneath it stretched a couch, guarded by a slanted window. The hearth beside it was black with ash, but there was plenty of abandoned firewood in front of it.

“It’s all we need,” Leliana purred, grazing her lips down Elissa’s bare neck.

“Just…wait…” _Oh, Maker…_ “…wait a…a second.” Elissa could barely get the words out, wanting to lose herself to the bard’s ministrations right there and then. She’d all but forgotten the maddening cravings that Leliana’s touch provoked. But she would not risk her falling ill again with the cold.

Awkwardly Elissa pulled Leliana’s borrowed overcoat off, throwing it over the couch. Then she lay Leliana down, brushing their lips together once more, before she reluctantly withdrew. Leliana tugged off her scarf, revealing the deep neckline of her shirt. Heart racing, Elissa forced her gaze away and turned to the hearth. She scraped out the burnt ash, then replaced it with fresh wood. It wasn’t long until the flames caught, and Elissa leapt back to the alcove.

Leliana locked her into another kiss, grasping Elissa’s flushed cheeks. Elissa was more than eager to return the favour, pulling the bard against her, kindling the heat that rose between her hips. Every touch, every stolen breath burned through the chains that had shackled her for so long. Her tainted nightmares and fearful heart had always suffocated her desire, yet now it was finally let loose, and she revelled in her newfound freedom.

Eventually Leliana broke contact, catching her breath. Elissa did likewise, relishing the bard’s scent as Leliana started to unbutton the rest of her shirt. Leliana took her time, drinking in the sight of her lover’s exposed skin. A view she had not enjoyed for so many years.

“Every scar tells a story,” she murmured, pulling the shirt free. Elissa remained still, her breaths quickening as Leliana ran her fingers across her Warden pendant. The bard traced it slowly, pausing where it met the rune below the hollow of Elissa’s throat. She planted a delicate kiss there, before she continued, mapping each and every blemish across Elissa’s chest. A pulse of pleasure ran through Elissa, and she closed her eyes. “I want to discover yours all over again.”

“They’re only yours to know,” Elissa whispered.

As Leliana made her way back up, Elissa pressed her lips to the corner of the bard’s mouth. A soft gasp escaped Leliana, and she raked her palms across Elissa’s sides. The bard’s right hand brushed the biggest scar, and Elissa tensed slightly. The area was still sensitive, and not just for the injury it once bore. Leliana let her thumb linger there, taking in the myriad of healed wounds.

“It’s a miracle you survived,” she said, her breath warm against Elissa’s lips. “You have endured so much, Elissa.” She took Elissa’s fingers, bringing them to her cheek. “Yet you still know such tenderness, too.”

Elissa circled her arm around the bard, comforted by the heat of her skin against her own.

“You’re hardly a stranger to such things,” she said. “After all, you taught me.”

Leliana smiled, resting in the crook of Elissa’s neck. For a moment they remained in stillness, until Elissa kissed the bard’s brow. A quiet rumble left Leliana’s throat, and she renewed her exploration.

“Do you remember,” she asked, sliding her hand to Elissa’s belt, “our first time?”

Elissa found herself smiling back. How long it had been since then, and yet she could recall that night in Denerim so vividly. A memory that no longer cut into her, but instead rested close to her heart. When she had realised how to truly love again without fear.

“You were very gentle,” Elissa murmured. “And patient.”

“And you knew more than you thought.” Leliana loosened the leather around Elissa’s waist, but paused before fully releasing it. “You never shied from me, from…what you saw.” She swallowed, hesitant. “You were the first to...after what they did...”

Elissa brought her free hand up, caressing the bard’s cheek.

“You were beautiful then,” she declared, “and you’re even more so now.” She ran her hand through Leliana’s locks, a sudden lump rising in her throat. “You’ve weathered so much pain, Leliana. And so much of it came from me. I’m sorry.”

Leliana shook her head.

“I gave just as much back.” The bard’s gaze fell. “For all it hurt…you spoke the truth in Haven. Your death became an excuse, a means to justify all the terrible things I did. It was the first step down a path I never wanted to take, and I could not stop myself.” Her eyes glistened. “And it made me hurt you as I never should have.”

Elissa tilted the bard’s chin up.

“I won’t leave you to face that again,” she said, bringing their lips together. “Whatever comes, I will always be by your side, Leliana.”

At last the tears escaped, and Leliana pressed her forehead against Elissa’s.

“Maker, I’ve dreamt of this _forever_.” She took Elissa’s hand once more, holding it against her chest. “I missed you like no other, cried myself to sleep for countless nights, blamed myself for losing such a blessed gift. Every part of me _ached_ for you…” Her breathing hitched. “Now I…I can barely believe…after all we went through...”

Elissa hushed her, kissing away her tears.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’re here with me, and that’s all that matters.”

The bard caught her breath sharply as Elissa started to work downwards, unravelling the lace cords that were the last barrier keeping them apart. At last they were freed, and Elissa’s hands forgot their manners, wandering everywhere, caressing, teasing, _wanting_. Leliana whimpered, making to writhe out of her shirt completely, but Elissa held her back.

“Don’t want you catching cold again,” she chided.

“ _Elissa_ …”

Their lips became one again, silencing Leliana’s protests. Her touches grew more fevered, as Elissa slid her fingers under the bard’s shirt, tracing the old scars on her back. Leliana ran her own down Elissa’s belly, memorizing every ridge of toned muscle, before slipping her hand between her legs.

Elissa’s strokes faltered, a wave of heat washing over her, and she bit her lip.

“If you’re worried I’ll be cold,” Leliana whispered in her ear, “then I had better make sure you can keep me warm.”

Elissa mewled in answer, the pressure between her thighs taking her breath away. It had been so, so long, and she hadn’t realised how starved she’d been for such attention. Leliana teased and taunted, her movements deft and skilled, and Elissa fought to keep control, wanting the moment to be both endless and ended.

“You’ve missed this,” Leliana remarked, taking another kiss from Elissa’s breathless lips.

“Like...nothing else...” Elissa gasped. The heat spread further, making her tremble. Maker, how had she forgotten _this_...

“Then let me give back.”

Elissa’s eyes closed, her senses consumed. She anchored her arms around the bard, moving rhythmically with her. Still it wasn’t enough, so she tilted her hips back. Leliana flashed a devilish grin, pushing harder, and Elissa couldn’t hold back her moan. All she could focus on was the building momentum, the burning spark that was being fanned into an inferno, threatening to raze her entire being.

Finally the blaze found release, and Elissa cried out, riding the wave that burst within. It spread right into her back and legs, deep and intense, but all too soon it was over. Sweat rolled down her back, and her breaths were sharp and ragged. For a long moment she didn’t move, until Leliana brushed her lips against her collarbone, easing back into her embrace.

Slowly, Elissa regained herself. She ran her hand down Leliana’s neck, and the bard shivered.

“I’ve made you wait long enough.” She moved, so her mouth was against Leliana’s throat. Leliana grunted in approval, arching her neck back and providing more room. Elissa made a slow trail with her tongue, following the contour of the bard’s breastbone downward. When she reached her navel, she lightly pushed her, so Leliana was lying on her back. Still Elissa continued lower, giving every furrow of Leliana’s belly the attention it deserved, pausing only to pull down her leggings.

Leliana flinched, catching her bandaged leg. At once Elissa stopped, but the bard pushed her back against her.

“No, don’t,” Leliana pleaded. “It’s nothing, I can...”

Whatever else she had to say melted into a moan, as Elissa picked up from where she had left off. Leliana dug her fingers into the overcoat beneath, anticipation welling up inside her. Elissa deliberately delayed, seeking to taunt and torment as the bard had done for her. Leliana whined, desperate for the touch she’d been craving for all these years.

“Elissa… _please_ …I need…”

Finally Elissa moved in for a taste, and Leliana bit back a cry. Her whole body tensed, and Elissa kept a steady pace, holding onto the bard’s hips. It was all Leliana could do to keep together, to cling to the moment before everything would unravel.

“Oh, Maker…” The bard bit her lip, completely oblivious to everything else. Elissa’s breath was hot, every pulse of her tongue striking perfectly, and she started to quicken her movement. Leliana groaned something in Orlesian, tensing her thighs. Elissa slid her hands lower, keeping the bard in place. Leliana tried to resist, to hold on that little bit longer, but it was too late. The bard called out Elissa’s name, her stomach muscles tight and rippling. She bucked her hips, drawing the moment out as much as she could, and then the fires died, leaving her breathless and limp.

Gently, Elissa retraced her path upwards, before finishing with a final kiss. Leliana returned it keenly, affirming she was not dreaming.

“ _Je t’aime_ ,” the bard whispered, nestling herself in Elissa’s arms.

Elissa smiled; that was one Orlesian phrase she knew.

“I love you, too,” she answered, fumbling to draw the overcoat around them. Leliana laced their hands together, resting against Elissa’s chest, and let out a contented purr. Her eyes closed, and Elissa stroked her hair. Soon the bard’s breaths turned deep and even, and Elissa kissed her lover’s forehead. “And I’ll be yours forever more.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * *

 

 

**Part 3- Conquest**

Her memories restored at last, Elissa ‘Yara’ Cousland joins forces with Amber Hawke and Lahara Trevelyan. Each holds a piece of the Shards of Andraste; the key to saving the souls of Thedas. But the land is dying, and time runs short. The Old Ones have gathered their respective forces, each determined to see their own version of the world’s rebirth. As final judgement approaches, the three must decide Thedas’s ultimate fate, even if it goes against the wishes of the Maker himself.


End file.
